A Moonlight Facade
by GantuShmantu
Summary: The fire is spreading and only time will be able to tell if Brian, who is quickly gaining notoriety as the vigilante known as Invictus, shall be able to stand the test of time and survive the onslaught that stands between him and peace in Gotham. Is murder ever truly the right choice? And will he have to fight for both his own soul, as well as Gotham's without anyone to aid him?
1. Carte Blanch

(March 12th, Tokyo, Japan, Jiyuishii High School)

Have you ever wanted something so much, that it was only a feasible amount of time in which you could continue to long for it without an inkling of hope before succumbing to the woe and abandoning all else that life had yet to offer you? A type of desire that was not alike that same affliction plaguing the poor or lacking stimulation, but much closer to the unending and damnable offense of a gambler clinging to the falsehood of a victory that lies just one attempt out of reach. The tinge of glamour dangling between the eyes that you just simply cant seem to get more then a hurried glance at, the pulsating persistence of mind and spirit that melds the very fabric of your psyche into a form from which there can be no change. And would you care to know the most dissatisfying aspect of the entire thing? It's not nearly as commonplace for this syndrome of self to be embedded within the bodies of the elder and more well seasoned individuals, but rather those of us who simply have had in them the good fortune to skip a few grades of mental and moral maturity. The hardened youth fueled by a steady diet of catharsis, who far too soon find the world at their doorstep and must determine the rhythm and reason behind their place in the grand scheme of the cosmos, and who might just be left to simmer in their sorrows like a fine meat slowly cooks to prepare for it's one true purpose. One such person was Usagi Tsukino, an eighteen year old high school student who was a bit downtrodden for the caliber of day that was now upon her, for in just a few short hours she would walk out of the life she had lead for countless years and graduate high school once and for all. Although her friends and family had shared doubts about her chances, considering the fact that they could count the times she had actually managed to get to school by the last bell on one hand, not to mention the fact that more likely then not the temperature outside would be higher then her test scores. However, in the last year in a half of her academic career she had largely recovered and found a means to salvage enough of her grade point average, otherwise known as her good friend Ami who had been far more diligent in her studies from start to finish.

 _"A future is something that you make yourself, Usagi, if you want to get better grades then you need to change more then just your attitude...you must believe in it!"_

The two of them had met once or twice in class shortly after Ami had first moved to Tokyo, but it would take something far more meaningful to tie to two of them together in the bond of friendship they shared, as well as the inclusion of the one and only Rei Hino. A spitfire with a temper shorter than a new army recruits hair, although she had been idly studying temperance and Buddhism passively with her grandfather who had taken it upon himself to car for an aging temple, and the three of them soon realized they were inseparable _._ And above all else, it would seem that this very intimacy would be the thing that plagued the klutzy, yet beautiful Usagi all the way into the auditorium of her school and most of the way through her ceremony...her eyes veering all over the place in a mad scramble to not lose sight of her faithful duo and as each of them make their way onto the stage to receive their diploma her heart began to flutter for just a millisecond. It was all just happening too quickly for her to even think of the words, should she choose to say something about the elephant in the room, but in short it had all amounted to less or what was happening but more of what was going to happen as soon as they walked out of those doors and watched as the night kept coming without delay. One had commitments to a scientific research laboratory which was more then enchanted to have the attention of such a brilliant young mind, where as the other had her sights set on seeing the world in the summer and then relocating elsewhere for school abroad. With all of the excitement between the two of them they hadn't seemed to focus on the fact that Usagi really didn't have a plan in place, and yet she merely wished to let her friends have a moment or two in the light before she let it be known again that she was going to be left alone in the dust of an old life. But that was no matter...not any longer...and she knew in her battered and shell-shocked heart that it was the right move to keep going without burdening them any further then she had to.

 _Usagi...Tsukino...!_

There were nearly a thousand steps standing between her and the end of her time in the limelight, a myriad of curious and watchful eyes from both those who knew her and those who simply wished to put a face to the name being called over the sound system. A somewhat sultry and succinct chorus of trumpets and piano came on in the background as she made her way from her seat, and with every single step she took she wore her own skin with an unprecedented level of comfort and confidence that had decided to aid her before the cloudiness of her mind took hold over her body. A small line-up of much older and well respected officials of the school, including the likes of the principal as well as a few of the more decorated and dedicated teachers who had been with them the entire way through, giving a kind glance and a firm handshake before Usagi took in her hands the fruit of her labors and went back down the aisle to be seated. Later members of faculty came to the podium and said a few things regarding how this recent batch of students had effected them, and how they felt they would effect the world at large with their fresh level of thinking, in one way or another making the rather tired remark that they were the future. The wide mass of black and white robes in attendance seemed to sway in a poetic rhythm as the time began to wind down and as they gradually found themselves growing restless with the long periods of standing, they nearly leapt out of their seats as they had been instructed to do so and threw their pointed hats into the air with a gluttonous anticipation. Tear stained gowns all trailing behind them as they left the building which had housed them for what had seemed to be more often then their own homes, the fabric being sullied as they walked and the sight mimicking that of a stampede of bodies carrying hundreds of trains from the back of wedding dresses in their wake.

"Helloooo...earth to Usagi...hey are you listening!" A soft, yet slightly annoyed voice rang out amusedly over the psychological clutter which had been reducing the nights emotional outpour to white noise, a quick double take and she had realized that she was outside of the school with none other then Ami and Rei.

"Sorry, guys, just a little out of it...just...a lot going on right now all at once." She reassured them with a remarkably adorable smile that made them drop their guard and return to the conversation they had been having just minutes before.

"Well, what else is new with you, just don't start falling asleep on us. If you drool on me, i'll slug you." She told Usagi with a brief chuckle and the two of them each simultaneously panned over to their blue haired friend who had been writing something down in her journal. "Oh brother, now don't you start, we've barely graduated and already you're doing schoolwork!"

"I cant help it! They sent me a few assignments just to keep me busy during the summer, and besides, I find it relaxing." Ami Finished before returning her eyes to her the pen and paper.

"Are you going to keep the hair, once college starts?" Usagi spoke up, presumably referring to the bright locks of sapphire swaying at a length midway between her ear and shoulder, the sight of it was something they had all become so accustomed to that it had hardly seemed strange anymore.

"Of course I am, Usagi! I like to think it makes me more memorable." She answered, taking a small piece of it into her hand and bring it closer to her eye as she did.

"Hey, I know i'm not usually the one to say this, but let's slack off a bit for once! Come on, Ami, Usagi? Let's get some pizza, soda, maybe some ice cream? What do you two say?" A greedy and pointed grin presented itself from one end of her face to the other, her motions like a hard working salary man enlivened by the thrill of the deal.

"Im in!" Ami nearly exploded, gleefully wasting no time despite the fact that this was as rambunctious as she could be, given her own more reserved and calm nature.

"I want to...I really, really do, believe me guys...I just have something that I promised I would do tonight." She replied somewhat talking in circles as she did.

"More important than your friends, huh? Figures, is it the guy from the arcade?" Biting her lip and sticking her tongue out slightly to try and coax her into releasing information she otherwise wouldn't say aloud. "Say hi to Motoki for me..."

"I swear, guys! We'll hang out tomorrow! I'll make it up to you!" She exclaimed, keeping a smile in place and dodging the comment Rei made by about five feet of distance.

"Just let's all meet up at the arcade, Usagi's got a connection, we'll get some free time with the machines, right?" She asked sarcastically, winking before embracing her fondly and then taking off in the opposite direction of the school, signaling Ami to follow after her. "Don't stay out too late! I don't want to go to your house and pry you out of bed in your pajamas!"


	2. Critical Oversight

A low hum accompanied the cool spring breeze that rushed by her ears in a gentle whistle, the softened darkness beside the school grounds doing itself in after a manner of a few blocks as the lights of the more natural and expected Tokyo cityscape were front and center. A purely dazzling spectacle of illumination in an array of twinkling, digitized billboards and the sounds of a million different muddled voices all coming together in the midst of the nightlife creeping onto the main drag, salary men and women alike just trying their best to get home to their families after a long day slaving at the office. Usagi had the good intention of making her way home and just call it a night, despite the rather heavy sentiment behind having some sort of celebration, however after the off comment that had been made she decided that maybe a brief visit to the arcade wouldn't be so bad after all. She could have gone with hailing a cab or even taking the bus so she could get there with a bit less urgency, and yet she had felt that the time to herself and her thoughts was a welcome change of pace, if only the city was a bit less crowded she may have even lingered a while longer then she did. Briskly walking in a figure eight pattern outside of the arcade which still had its "open" sign lit proudly, but yet by the looks of things from within not a soul was to be seen, a small piece of paper taped to the inside of the doors glass frame saying that they had decided to close early for personal reasons not mentioned. Most likely, it was the case that the man in charge of the arcade had a son or daughter of his own who was also involved with the festivities, and so he had decided to cut things early and shut the doors for the sake of a little time with his family. Metallic jangling sounded as the door creaked open about an inch as she slid her way in, almost giving them impression that she would just remain hidden until she caught sight of her friend as he heard the bell and came up to the front, presumably to tell them that they were closed for the night. She had some benefits in tow, seeing as she had been coming there for the last four years and in having had small-talk with the young man practically each time, he had often been gracious enough to let her in after hours to play a round or two on some of the machines.

"I'm sorry, we're closed until tomorr-oh, Usagi! It's you! Why didn't you say something when you came in?" The tall and slender man of a medium length blonde hair declared as he had apparently found her hiding spot on the floor slumped over beside an arcade machine as casually as any sane man could.

"How...how did you even know I was there?" She inquisitively asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Well...for starters, there are about three dozen machines in the arcade, and last time I checked none of them were growing long blonde hair." He continued jokingly with a soft chortle before motioning for her to follow him over to the transparent glass prize redemption counter, her response being to do just that in no time at all. "I thought you'd be out with your friends? Is something wrong?"

"Nah, it's just...worried about whether or not i'll have to say goodbye to Ami and Rei, I mean...they'll all be heading off to college and...I don't know what i'm going to be doing with myself. I probably could get in somewhere, but it's just...it wouldn't be anything as special as what they have." She declared, nervously.

"I remember when I had go through all of that, worrying where my life is going, you're not alone, though. You just need to find yourself something that gives you a reason to get up in the morning...or well, that might not be that right thing to say, I've heard Rei tell me she threw you off of your bed one time and you didn't get up. It doesn't have to be college, you know? You're just...scared, we all are." Motoki reassured her before tossing a small lollipop her way, which she greedily tossed to the back of her mouth in a frenzied hysteria of joy, the simplest of things still managing to be a small comfort for her. "Come on, Usagi, do you want to play a few games? I've got something new in that you'll love."

"Sure, why not, i'm going to kick your butt, though." She spat with a tinge of delightfully candid arrogance, which made him laugh a bit before flicking a series of switches underneath the counter, making all of the machines in the arcade hum and whirl back into action once again.

"Actually, I think you already have, Usagi." He chimed in, causing her to pause in confusion.

Motoki lead her down a small aisle of electronic cabinets, each with their own musical chime longing for someone to take notice and waste a few precious minutes and one hundred yen pieces to indulge their inner itch, and pointed to a tabletop machine with a small LED display which was glowing through the thin tarp obscuring the game from her sight. With a small nod and little else stopping her from doing so, she pinched the fabric piece and pulled it back with less grace and more of a guttural and gleeful sense of ambition and a dash of satisfactory vengeance, a devilish smile much to her surprise as she looked down on the cabinet and saw that she had known this machine all too well. In about five seconds, a title screen with a jagged and a deeply inward curve beside a shade of hot pink making the words themselves stand out as they popped up across the top of the screen, a nicely level sheen glinting off of the words before a voice came through the individual speakers on either side. Say...lor...vee! It nearly screamed with an air of anticipation for what would happen if a passerby could simply spare the time, the audio coming from someone who obviously had an intensely thick Japanese accent yet still was told to speak the title which was a roughly garbled English. He rifled through his pocket and retrieved a small key which had a deeply leafy hue to it, implying that it had been giving them at least a decade or so of faithful service at this point, and opened the machine so that he could activate a small pulley and confuse it into thinking credits had already been given. Gripping the cabinet as forcefully as she could, she watched as the first level began and she herself was lost in the sights and sounds of the electronic wonderland that she had been so familiar with years prior, her lips sucked into the inside of her mouth and her eyes bulging out from the intensity as she found her own character close to death. Given a half hours time, she had managed to get past the first few levels, however her lapse in memory of how to proceed past one of the bosses had taken all of her patience and she frustratingly pushed herself away from the machine.

"Had enough?" He questioned, all the while sneering at her, a firm and pouty nod being all he needed to put his key away for the night.

"Where did you get it, anyway? This hasn't been here for years!" She exasperatingly demanded.

"We kept one of the boards from the old machines, just in case we could find another machine that would work for it, a few months ago I remembered that it was just sitting back there collecting dust so...I figured i'd try to put something together when I had the time. I remembered how this used to be all you'd ever play. Besides, you don't really ever see much Sailor V, anything, these days." He explained.

"Yeah...well, thanks. I really appreciate it Motoki." She admitted.

"Anytime, Usagi...although, don't you think you should be heading on home? It's almost midnight." He told her, almost doubting the very words he spoke as he said them.

"What! Crap, crap, crap, my parents are going to kill me! Um...yeah, thanks again, Motoki. I'll just be...leaving now." She replied, her body language flustered and her motions making it all the more likely that she would have leaped through the window if the door hadn't already been opened for her, the few belongings she had brought with her only swinging from one arm since she had been in that much of a hurry. Her parents had often been a bit more understanding in her desiring a later curfew as she grew older, but still they had always maintained the belief that if she was to be out late then it would be only fair that they be told what her plans were and who she was with. Considering the minimal list of demands set before her, it is hardly a surprise that she would see how they would be upset by her not remembering to get ahold of either of them at any point, and on the night of her graduation of all nights. And so, as she had done oh so frequently in her four years of public school she chose to floor it home with little concern for any of the pedestrians in her way, although in their defense even some of them had been run down enough times that they had grown to a first-name basis with her. Reaching her humble home approximately ten minutes later, she took a good minute to recollect herself and catch her breath on the stoop of her building, chastising herself once or twice before switching gear to a constant mantra of self reassurance that she could tiptoe into the residence without raising alarm. Just as she had done at the arcade, she slid her slender frame through the tiniest crack in the doorway and then closed it with about as much force as a mouse in slow motion, although this time around this had the threat of a lengthy lecture giving her poise and proper form.

"Oh, good heavens, Usagi! Do you know what time it is?" A voice remarked from within the void of darkness, her body tensing up before processing the situation and realizing just who the voice had belonged to.

"Oh, jesus! You scared me, Luna! I thought you were mom, for a sec." She sighed in relief and allowed the air flow into her lungs a bit more casually.

"I'm sorry to startle you, but you're parents went to bed a few hours ago, which is where you should be. We were all worried sick..." She confessed, a bit more concern in the female voice then most might have expected from such a regal vocal stature.

"I'm really sorry, Luna, but i'm here now so...can we just be really quiet and get to bed without waking them up?" She pleaded with her.

"Yes, yes, of course. I'm just glad you're alright." She calmly agreed, the two of them taking the staircase up to the second floor one at a time, still entirely shrouded in a veil of the purest blackness so that they wouldn't raise any unwanted attention. Mostly feeling around the walls on either end to find her own way through the halls, eventually finding the doorknob leading to her own room, and stepping backwards into the room and closing the door behind her. The light switch just beside the door, she closed her eyes and took a deep breathe as her hand snaked outward to flip it to the on position, a sharp gasp coming from her as she saw through the newfound illumination of her room that someone had been rummaging through her belongings...and that her entire room had been torn apart from top to bottom.


	3. Away We Go

**(December 10th, 8:30 PM, Gotham)**  
Whether or not you were the champion of good favor, or the most appropriate approximation of Belial, there was a certain level of expectation surrounding the signing off of a city's own unsung hero. Not often in recent history had there been a time where people had found it irrelevant to pay their own respects back in kind to the greats who had once risked their very earthly, fleshy vessel for the sake of the common good by the time they had saw it high time to depart. Nearly each and every culture had a means of celebrating the passing of the torch to another generation when it had been made all but inevitable to all who had bothered to pay such a level of attention, and among the likes of the pharaohs and sheiks gone off into the mist to fade away from this shallow plane of being, James Gordon stood with his head held high as the fruits of his life's labor saluted before him. For much in the same way that another man had very similarly poised himself throughout the lot of Herman Melville's own fictional adventure, Gordon had spent most of his life chasing an elusive behemoth the likes of which he hadn't cared to imagine, and found the charismatic man with a full head of hair reduced to a frail, old man. Autumn had begun to set in and his bones had cared to confirm it only further as he slowly drew a fresh breath of air and collected himself in the moment, one step at a time he made his way to the podium that was more clear to him then the faces of those around him. He was being ushered towards it by the booming voice of one of his former colleagues and now his only option was to obey and give a word of wisdom to those that he was so immediately going to be leaving behind, a massive cluster of bodies and steadily dissipating voices silencing as he cleared his throat.

"There...were some things I had prepared for tonight...but I don't think that I should end things sounding like a broken record. It has been my job to keep the people of this city safe, as best as I could, for the last fifteen years...and I could not be any happier with the progress that this city has made in that time. Some have criticized the choices I have made, and some of you have even decided to show up for tonight, and for that I am eternally grateful. Although...I am going to be leaving Gotham behind, I realize that there is still much to be done in Gotham, but as an old friend of mine once said...vigilance is the price of safety. Though I may no longer be the commissioner, or even a part of the force, I have faith that there shall always be someone who is willing to fight for their city and for their own safety of mind. This city has taught me that...that there is so much more that makes Gotham then simply buildings and paved streets, it's the people who live on and within them. This, is, was, and forever shall be, our city." He finished as one well heighted man came towards him with a glass of what he had assumed to be champagne and lifted it to the sky, to which the crowd reciprocated effortlessly.

The Albatross, a significantly smaller convention space then the lavishly opulent Gatsby, however in the wake of what happened not nearly long enough ago there were some stains that had managed to be removed from the fabric but not the mind. In total the guest list had surpassed numbers usually held for dinner dates with dignitaries and religious hierarchy, roughly in the thousands if you counted the attendance in conjunction with the seemingly hive minded paparazzi who were clamoring together outside to get a brief word with the former commissioner, although no one would ever admit such a thing to him. Most knew better then to make a spectacle out of the man, even if that was exactly what took place, he wouldn't ask for anything more then to cost through this night in the eye of the tabloid's media firestorm. A light appetizer of shrimp glazed in a devilishly delectable white honey sauce, a sixteen ounce steak cut from the most tender and careful of conditions, and a procession of willing and eager hands waiting to cap off the evening fueled by lost youth and the pompous arrogance of those hiding just how glad they were that his was retiring. For it's just as they say, while the cat is away, the mice shall play. A single voice called James away by the end of what had to have been the hundredth handshake, domineering to say the least and forceful by its own nature, but still subdued enough that it was able to be used in polite society. A man of which Gordon had known all too well over his years in the city, nearing middle-age looks and a head of well manicured dark brown hair approached him in a fine two button suit.

"Well, Mr. Wayne, I never thought that I would see the day you would attend an event like this." He mused to the man, which he had curiously enough seen grow from an orphaned boy to the man he saw before him, Wayne's hand raising and veering off to the left to point to a ravishing redhead who had managed to turn the parties attention entirely from him. Nothing too surprising, as this had always been the standard for any function he showed up at, and no matter the hair color or bust size they were all beyond words...and they were always his.

"A friend of mine had heard something about an open bar, we couldn't resist stopping by to see you off, we'll be heading off for a night on the shore. Perhaps you'd like to join us?" Bruce offered as he motioned to the front door leading back out into the rest of world, away from dying light of the evenings affair.

"Thanks for the invite, but it's not exactly my place, I hope you'll understand." James answered courteously, leaving him to simply nod in acknowledgement.

"Did you believe what you said, about having faith...in the future of this city?" He questioned.

"I always have, it's a matter of who's willing to fight harder, and it might just come down to them or us." Exclaimed Gordon.

"Are you referring to vigilantes, or the common citizens?"

"One thing they don't teach you...when you eat award winning steak and drink from a bottle of wine worth three times my pension, there is no difference between the two. And that's what gives me hope, Mr. Wayne. I know that you weren't the biggest supporter of "you know who" but he did some good, and on nights like tonight and at times like these...all I hope is that they're keeping themselves busy." Bruce's shoulders lowered at hearing this, and he nodded one last time before giving his goodbyes to both James as well as the entire convention center.

Leaving moments after and hailing a taxi, he gave the man at the wheel a few twenty dollar bills and told him to take him to the airport, opting for a scenic route and stated that he had wished to see the place as much as he could before boarding his flight. A five minute detour through the downtown district, and then a long straightaway taking him all the way to the city's outer limits, the very next stop taking him just outside of the airport with few minutes remaining before he would be needing to check in, the lights of the runway seemed to be the only thing still lit up for miles. It all happened so fast that the time between taking a seat in the mix of all of the other wayward peoples to actually collecting his meager luggage and walking down the terminal would bleed out into obscurity. Halfway there, the light of where the entrance ramp merged with the plane glowing in a sort of heavenly ambiance, a dark figure would come forth from the side of the darkened wall and locked eyes with him.

"Did you enjoy your soiree?" It asked, calmly as a guttural growl came seeping out of a slit in the expressionless, white mask that was covering its face.

"I did, I didn't think you'd be stopping me at the airport, seeing me off?" He sarcastically remarked.

"Don't be coy, now, I'm not going to start spouting off lines from Casablanca. I just wanted to say thank you, and that I wish you all of the best, wherever it is that you end up." It explained, taking one more step an advancing from out of the veil of shadows, the faint embers of light casting off the red and black hooded cloak and garb that had covered the remainder of its form."

"It might just be a fool's intuition...but I think that you'll do just fine...uh, I never got your name?" He let out in one well calculated breath, the figure who now appeared more human in nature with the additional illumination brought to the discussion began to slowly respire.

"Invictus..." He spoke coldly.

"Well, then, it's been an honor. If you'll excuse me, there are some people that I need to see, and I'm very late."


	4. Red Room

_Do you...ever feel as if you...are a slave to the shackles of this life...?_

 _Would you care to be emancipated...to be...set free...from every single...restriction?_

 _I want you to listen very closely to me...all you need to do...is listen to every single thing...I tell you to do..._

 _But right now, all I need for you to do, is pay attention, Brian..._

 _Hey, are you there? I miss you..._

"Get out of the road, asshole!" Barked a livid driver behind the wheel of a rather souped up Lincoln Continental who managed to do me to in twice: the first being the rush of cool air blowing directly past my ear as the reality happening all around me came crashing down upon me, where as the other came as he vigorously flipped me off during his mad dash to make the next light. It had been a few hours since the airport farewell, the night was starting to make its presence known on every street corner and avenue in Gotham, and it was once more the time of day where the most wicked may come out to play...for better or worse. To be a bit more precise, the twelfth hour had just struck a few minutes ago, and with my senses back in order I made my way towards one of the few respectable places a man could be caught in at such an hour: The Vixen Resort. If you've ever seen a single raunchy comedy involving a group of wayward individuals spending their night toiling away in a bath of alcoholism and nonsensical destruction of other peoples property, then you might have the tiniest idea of what kind of place this was without having to draw too many self embellished conclusions. From a solely consumer focused standpoint, it was all that you could have ever asked for in a hotel and resort location, with rooms themselves being little more then high-end condominiums which spanned an entire floor and a fully stocked and comped mini bar being standard, but beyond that I knew enough to do a little inside investigating to discover that the Brothers in Arms had been prepping the executive suit for something. What? I didn't know, but one of the most notoriously volatile and ambitious gangs in the city weren't going to be buying out something this spacious for biscuits and tea, and it was my full intention to get in on the action. Maybe I didn't fit the bill, or perhaps I had absolutely no connections to wedge myself in-between the party guests, not to mention that my sole similarity came from the fact that my godfather had been an associate of their own adversary...but that's just where the fun starts. You see, a nineteen year old roaming the streets with a haggard backpack slumped over his shoulder and a cheap suit loosely hugging his exterior might not be their taste, but my hope had been that the almighty dollar was more then enough to entice them.

Leisurely making my way over to the concierge desk I matched gazes with a colorful woman who must have been in her mid to late twenties, clearly sizing me up curiously and trying her damnedest to discern what business I had there, a few cheerful nods and a quick word and she had been ever so kind as to inform me that my party would be starting shortly. Her name was Heather and she smelled like an entire years worth of peppermint came out of her mouth like the kickback of a shotgun every time she opened her mouth, a pretty face in the least but a bit self-conscious about her breathe, I would imagine. She pointed me to the nearest elevator, which quite frankly I don't think I would have needed any assistance in finding, but none the less I appreciated the effort in going above and beyond the call of her marginally above minimum wage duty. Once inside I waited a few floors just to be safe that nobody would be joining me seconds into me pursuing through my items, the lot of them including my nearly all black cape, pants, shirt and mask combo and a small razor flip-phone with a name so generic that it hardly deserves being given a name. Ever since Penelope...I've had been having a lot of difficulty staying in the moment, and sometimes I swear that I would see something out of the corner of my eye only to do a full one-eighty to be completely beside myself, and I guess having to take someone else's life does leave much room for sanity. She...had been my friend, not nearly long enough if you ask me, but I hadn't been able to do right by her in life...so I did what I had to and made sure that nobody else would have to get hurt like she did. That was why I even decided to enter that resort that night, why I was even continuing to don the glorified pajamas and do whatever it was I could, because I was being suffocated by an anger that was billowing up from within me and a sense of paranoia that was making me feel jumpy enough to take it to the next level. I remember though, that I told myself that if I had to take anyone else's life then I would do all I could to keep my own sense of self and humility, so that I wouldn't wind up just as numb to the madness that was capable of slowly becoming a daily stroll through the park.

 _I'm heading up to the suit now...if you want to help me...then you know where i'll be._ I texted with one hand as casually as I could, just seconds beforehand I had noticed the camera rigged to watch my every move, still mounted to the wall as it should be but small enough to remain unseen unless you were looking for it. The woman on the other end was known as Temptress, although it wasn't as though I had been given too much time t employ that name to any great effect, her tactics, true behavior, and meaning behind most of anything that she did remained a mystery. But that being said, she was still willing enough to help me, and having a tag-in partner when my own mind wasn't the steadiest was a dream come true, and all of the concerns over who exactly she was beyond a sex-addict with too much time on her hands...both literally and figuratively...faded into a background static for the time being. The doors opened to the top floor and I was greeted to an entirely empty floor before me, a pattern that I was immeasurably thankful for, this giving me the time and focus to find a finding spot in an unlocked supply closet for my personal effects. Rounding a corner I caught sight of two men standing outside of a single door which I presumed was going to lead me straight into the action, the one of them was much larger then the other, however if you were to make statement about size then the ink running up the one mans arm saying "brick shithouse" was enough to drive the point home. Just as the woman at the front desk had done, the pair of them labored over my appearance and obvious age before the one with the visible ink and edge in muscle mass spoke up with a smirk on his face.

"I don't think you're in the right place, kid, get the fuck out of here before you get yourself hurt..." The deliberate silence being put in place to enunciate the threat further, but I did my best to numbly speak to him with my eyes steadily matching tempo and a bit more bass in my voice.

"I don't think so, guys, I want in...and whatever price you can come up with...I can match. Try me." My lips spouted coldly, tempting them to make the next move.

"Alright, hotshot, if you can come up with...oh, let's say a cool million, this door opens." He scolded as he saw me start to empty out the contents of my pockets in order to retrieve my wallet, and further by that effect, my bank card. Once out in the open for both men to see, the two of them both looked at each other suspiciously before taking in into their possession, scanning it through a small attachment that they had routed into a tablet in the non-inked man's right hand, and furrowing his brow before giving it back to me.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen." I told them as a smile ran from cheek to cheek, the two of them parting much like the red sea and opening the door for me with a small keycard which had been stashed in a small vest pocket.

Where are you...?! One last text to try and signal my backup before looking up the see that the entire new-age rat-pack which had decided to show up for the festivities were staring at me as if I was a leper showing up to hand toss their salad, and the phone went away inside my pocket faster then I ever had done so before.


	5. Mis-Carry

Panning my head from one side of the room to the other a few times, there were in fact a total of thirteen of them, my gut instincts were telling me that the two hired help outside had taken their armaments away before they had entered so maybe my job wouldn't be so difficult after all. Not wanting to start a fistfight the second I walked in the door, however, my tactic was to offer them a somewhat dishonest and disingenuous grin and curl my lips back behind my teeth as I sat down in the first available chair I could locate. In many ways it called back to my memory, albeit ever so faintly, the tales of Odysseus and the others who would dwell in such places so overrun with the likes of the blackened and belittled that the only true way to progress through was to mimic their movements. A lone sheep poorly trying to paint the smeared remains of a fallen comrade to my sides in a vein plea to convince the predators above and below that I could fight, and or kill, any of them if they so forced me to do so. Their attention had returned to each other and soon enough they all had began to take up some menial conversation amongst themselves, my own ears only managing to pick up small fragments of the topics, although one of them had left our company to walk over to a door at the far end of the room where I assumed that it was a bedroom or bathroom. Most of the space was uninterrupted by any sort of dividing wall or structure, a design choice im sure was to ensure that as many comforts could be added and that having dozens of people in the room at once wasn't an issue.

As even with the fifteen bodies between the door and stretching outward towards the ostentatious mini-bar their hadn't been the feeling that room was in short supply, we all still had enough room to get up and move about or whatever else we wished. Most of my company had seemed fairly well-to-do even beyond the mental expectation that they had to give away a million dollars just as an entrance fee, as each of them had worn presumably silk or satin or some other fine material that was overpriced and tailored to their body type, these men all smiled and were cordial with each other but none the less I knew that they were all snakes in turn. The situation had just given them no reason to sink their teeth into anything in particular, except for maybe myself, but their focus was fixed on the door as it swung open and a small band of women were nudged out into the plain sight where we all could see. They were corralling them into our field of vision, with three of them standing before us and at least twice that much still clustered into a corner within the dimly lit room from which they came, their eyes were distant and glazed over in about as much shock as anybody else would be in such a traumatic situation as this. Each of their hands had been tied together with a sort zip-tie, although by the burn mark around their wrists it had seemed that it they had latched it onto them as if they were cattle, the man who had brought them in now raised the hands of the one girl and began in a bit of a slur. The pitch was all wrong, and some of his words had curled off of his tongue in such a way that made it seem as though he was struggling to pronounce the proper English in the fashion he so desired to, falling somewhere between inebriation and incompetence. The woman's face was obscured by a plain red mask, as they all were know that better light was given to that particular section of the room, but her knees were trembling as the man began to rattle off a starting bid as well as some very off color remarks about this girl.

"Young Sarah here...she wanted to be a dancer...on broadway, well. I'm sure that she will make one of you...a very, very, happy man. She...is very docile and obedient, she just needed to be broken in a bit first, im afraid." He cackled as my fist almost snapped off from how firmly I was grasping my chair, eyes practically coming out of my skull in disgust at the words. "Now, can we start the bidding at...say...five million?"

 _five..._

 _five and a half..._

 _six..._

 _seven..._

For what seemed like an eternity they prattled off one figure after another, the lot of them all up in arms at the idea that someone else claiming their prize which they had set in their mind was solely theirs to have. My stomach far too quickly becoming unsettled and the room slowly beginning to spin, I needed to gather my things and get to work, or in the very least leave the room as soon as humanly possible and try to contact Temptress. Face flushed, my collar already popped out and being used as a makeshift fan to cool off my soiled brow, my exit from the room was not ignored in the slightest and that very same man now bore his matching set of yellow teeth at me and took his eyes off of the girl beside him. There were a few words exchanged between himself and the company, as well as a tainted chorus of laughter in response to whatever had been said, and then I shook my head to not only focus on the ways out of the room...but also my options to talk my way out of a bloodbath.

"It's a shame...so kids have so much money...and not enough common sense to tell them that there are places where they shouldn't be poking around in. Didn't your parents ever tell you about that? Or maybe...he he maybe they were too busy so they paid some bitch maid to do their job for them, huh? Is that it." Not. One. Word. My facial expression wasn't one to be misinterpreted, as it said that I was inches away from bludgeoning him to death the item nearest to me before going a few rounds with the others just for good cardio. But my time would come, as I bolted out from the confines of the suite and rounded the corner like the wraths of hells domain were behind me, and returned to the maintenance closet and changed into my outfit with only the balance of a drowned duck and the light from the door being opened a mere six inches for guidance. As I made my way back through the halls, my entire costume draped over my being and the harsh guttural sounds of a poor ability to breathe through the small slit that the mask had provided being all that would accompany me. Those very same men still stood in my way, and now they weren't going to be so kind as to offer me a spot inside if I guessed the magic number, and rather then start of scoffing at my appearance they immediately had began to reach for something attached to their hip and just beyond my sight.

"There's only two of you..." I grunted with even blinking, as I knew all too well that they took note of that through the mask, their lips held open in a suspenseful hesitation at my ghostly presence, although this soon was brushed off as they each pulled what I then could tell was a stun-gun from their side holster and the confidence was now shifted to their end.

"Listen, fucker, you're a few weeks late for Halloween. So, unless you want to get ten thousand volts shot straight up your ass, you'll get the fuck out of here." He threatened, extra emphasis being placed on his little toy.

"Listen, I don't judge people for their life choices, but you're in my way so im going to tell you what im going to do. I'll start by taking that stun gun, and shoving it straight up your ass...just seeing as you seem to love that so much." I fired back, a swift reprisal as his fist came at me and landed just on the nose, a trickle of blood being felt running down my face from within the mask telling me that his strike had been enough to break it. "Not bad...now it's my turn."

His nose curled in the heat of his fierce game face, or at least that's what he was going for, and he decided to stick with what he already knew had worked at sent another punch my way which still managed to turn my face all the way to the left. What he hadn't known was that I had been counting on him throwing the second punch, and once he committed to it I took the chance to wrap both of my arms around him from underneath his armpits, and with his body mostly immobilized I took the one hand and confiscated his weapon which would seconds later send two small forks into the torso of his friend. Wriggling around on the floor, convulsing and muttering unintelligible and garbled gibberish, now it was just to get rid of him; however, as he struggled against my grasp the door came into view front and center and I had an idea come to mind that I though might just work. For as I stood outside of the door and silenced his attempts to call further attention to the two of us, I thought to myself that with the right amount of force I might just have a more efficient way to enter the room, after all.

"How much do you weigh?" I angrily questioned him, allowing him some more freedom to draw enough air to his lungs to answer.

"Fuck you!" He shouted as best as he could.

"Yeah...you'll do." I said under my breath, mostly to myself.


	6. Afrodeziac

As much as I could say that what happened next is little more then a fairly opulent peice of fiction, I have it on good authority that the following did occur and in such a way that matches what I shall describe next, as my own mind wandered from one place to another as the weight of my captive audience began to show through. A few stray beads of sweat escaping the plastic pressed against my face an trickling down my nose and into the corner of my eye, the salty discharge a mostly unpleasent and irritating experience all in all, my arms braced for the heavy lifting they would soon be forced to do. It was of the utmost important that I arked it just right, so I took his underarms in my own and began to swing him slowly back and forth a few times, waiting for the third motion to let him loose and allow gravity to do the rest of the work. His form hadnt been the best and by the time he made contact with the door's frame his head and neck were the first things to collide together, and with a deeply resounding thud the entire door came down and off of it's supports, my volenteer battering ram now out cold and looking as if he were using the door for a pillow. My next move had me casually making my own entrance into the room and mutely addressing the version of "The View" that only as cruel as Charles Manson could hope to string together with the same pair of dead eyes, the man with the yellowed teeth had seemed to come to terms with what my intentions were and yanked the one woman's arm within his clammy grasp. Lunging back a few feet further away from my own shadow and trying to make a break for a window on the far end of the suite, but what niether of us had expected was that when he tried to jerk his captive forward to follow him was that the woman would be prepared. Her one arm contorted around that which had been holding her steady, and from under her not so elegently skimpy skirt came the sheen of a blade horridly attached to a flashdrive by a wad of masking tape which sank in just below his left rib.

Leaving barely enough time for the first body to hit the floor, the rest of the brigade dispersed into two main groups: the first being those who were attempting to vacate the premises and not be tied to any of the evidence that was sure to be made, and those who were diligently wanting a chance to do the both of us in. One was just about to get his hand atop of the doorknob as I hurled a chair of the most decadent of cherry mahogany and watched it make contact with his temple, most likely disoriented but I couldnt take my eyes off of the others to eliminate the threat, narrowly escaping one punch while twisting my own arm around the hand of another and bending it elsewhere until I heard it pop out of its socket. Using another peice of idle furniture in the room beside me for much needed leverage, I launched myself off of the ground and onto the cushions of a plush burgandy sofa and leapt from there, in mid air landing a kick to the throat of the man who's punch I had just avoided. My masked help was fairing a bit better, as four different men all diverged and were thinking of springing an ambush as they came from all sides on a diagnal, although her style would serve to give away far more then I had imagined as she flung her weight into one of them and with a wild and animilastic furosity snapped his neck. She then took the same blade in hand and ripped open the one man's juggular, a deathened violet red liquid pooling as he fell onto his back, gasping for air but for air butinstead gurgling on the very same murky iron-rich fluid. The most sickening thing about it all was the unprecidented level of enjoyment that she took in taking her her blade to each and every one of them as they tried her on for size, twirling and swirling around with the flexibility of a gymnist on the balance beam as she cut through them like butter. Her gleeful nature would get the best of her in time, however, as the last of them remaining came at her while she was preoccupied with adding a few more wounds to one of her victims for good measure...but as he went to grope her thigh she completely turned her body over and capsized atop of him. Her makeshift defense now a tad dulled from the overexertion, she drove it home between the mans legs repeatedely as his eyes engorged and he slowly limped across the hardwood surface floor before going silent some ten feet later.

"Fuck..." I muttered as I let the vomit-inducing scenary sink in, the faint sound of sirens in the distance closing in having my heart skip a beat, and the sins committed only seconds earlier calling my eyes to avert to my counterpart as she revealed that same decorated face. "Temptress...you know, you could have given me some heads up?"

"What? And leave all of the fun for you? Besides...this is more of my style, anyway. I mean...I'm looking...and I dont think you killed anyone. Good little boyscout." She lectured me, scanning the room and tallying up the bodies and realizing that my own opponents were still breathing.

"You dont always have to kill them, you know...like...him for example." I remarked as I titled my head to the body with the drag mark behind it.

"What?" She asked, as if she hadnt done anything wrong.

"Listen, you didnt have to stab me to know that had to hurt, thats...just wrong." My voice fell to almost a whisper as a shiver came over me.

"It made him stop, didn't it?" She asked, again.

"Yes, but...he was a big guy, alright? I'm sure there were dozens of other places you could have gone for." I implied.

"They wouldn't have been nearly as fun, though." She concluded.

"Ah, so there we have it! What if a guy tried to stab you between the legs?" I franticly asked her.

"Most do...they just offer to buy me a drink first." She hissed with a bit of tongue sticking out as my mouth almost hit the floor at the coy attitude coming out of her, although by that point I really shouldnt have been suprised in the slightest. "Besides, boyscout, shouldnt we be worrying about something else...like how we're getting out of here, maybe?"

"Yeah...right." I didn't have the time to argue, and the two of us needed to put about as much distance between the place as a cafeteria catholic does to the new testament, the windows being as good a place to check as any at this point. The only thing I could see once I looked outward and downward from our great height, was a stretch of tarp that was pulled tightly over the entrance to the main lobby, just how much weight or pressure it could hold I had no idea...but it was the only idea we had. "Alright, so, how are you with falling out of a building?"

"I thought you'd never ask..." She mused, peering out of the window and instantly we were on the same page, although my own thoughts had been overcome with doubts about just what would happen should we go straight through. A far more cartoonish splat sound effect ringing out in my head, diluting the harsh reality that we were literally diving into a sea of asphalt with enough force to break every bone in our bodies if we would be off on our jump be a mere few feet. Not much else in the way of rationalization could be done, however, as she had already placed half of herself out the window and was raring to go away with my asinine escape route which had been nothing short of suicide. Temptress, for a lack of a better way of wording this, decided to quell my fears and anxiety like any other sane individual would have done given the situation...by pulling me out of the hotel suite and out of the window by the hand and sending the two of us rushing through the air with a loud swoosh coming from all sides as we began to pick up speed in our descent. The earthy teal tarp quickly approaching us both as we tried to correct our form so that we would land feet first, or in the very least I had that rationale, the two of us preparing for the crash as best we could I finally found myself able to feel the same sense of ease that she had as she screamed like a child on a roller coaster.

 _Don't worry...you'll survive...let the breeze guide you._

And let it guide me I did, much to the delight of the both of us, we each managed to make it out of there without raising any attention to where we had gone or that we were even there to begin with, the only true issue being in the fact that the enormous amount of pressure had caused a rubber band effect that sent us quite a ways back. But like I said, we weren't going to complain about being sprung away from the scene of the crime, although the sore tailbone I had after the turbulent landing of my ass onto a section of roughly uneven sidewalk was worth the griping. Collecting myself despite the soreness and pain that would course through my spine the whole time I chose to stand, I still returned the favor and helped up my maniacal and well equipped partner and the two of us pathetically sauntered throughout the darkened backstreets of the Gotham night. She had told me to let her show me somewhere that would amaze me, and like a man who felt he had the world granting him all of the right exceptions, I greedily remained a man of cautious optimism over where exactly she wished to bring me. At this point the options were endless, and my night had been all but spent in the department of actually having some sort of plans in place, so I agreed and removed my cloak and instead carried it just under my arm as we made our way forward towards a very old and rustic church.

"So...is this the part where you drug me, and then start selling my hair on eBay, maybe tie me up and have a blood sacrifice?" I questioned her, jokingly.

"First of all, nobody would want to pay that much for your hair, and second...I don't do a blood sacrifice on a first date." She countered, making her way up the two flights of stone stairs before opening the door just an inch, her own slender shape gliding on through and leaving nothing but the length of her hand motioning me to follow after her. Not as graceful of an entry into the cathedral for myself, as I went halfway in before having a piece of my stomach catch the door and cause it to creak, the absence of any other sound at such a late hour causing it to echoes loudly throughout the open hall. A long precession of pews came on each side stood before us, with roughly a dozen per side with a small alter elevated above it and a square confessional box being off to the right side of it all. "So...how well do you...concentrate under pressure?"

"Well, I know not to pick the red wire if i'm on the bomb squad...I think." I replied, not quite understanding the scope of the question, or the implication.

"Well...i'm feeling like I've done some...very...bad things tonight...and I think I need to be cleansed. Wouldn't you be so kind and...save...my soul." She winked as she nearly ran to the confessional and pulled back the purple curtain obscuring the inside.

"Jesus...I mean, yeah, i'm not coming back from that one. You're crazy, you've got blood on your clothes, and...you expect me to have sex with you in the middle of the night...in a church?" I asked, incredulously.

"And so are yours...you know, god's the biggest pervert of them all? You seem like the most normal person on the outside, but...I can tell that you have some very...fucked up things going on in there...and I just want to help you let them out, okie?" That smile, with teeth so perfectly tended to masking a forked tongue. "You've almost died...a lot lately...maybe it's about time you started living a little?"

Listen, I can accept the demonization that comes with most of the dumbass things I've agreed to in my life, but over the years i'd still stand by the statement that you need to take some risks in order to sort through the life you lead and get to the life you long for. We all chose a toxic situation or something that would only bring us further pain or complications from time to time, but it was the scar that the moment left us with that made us wise enough to stand up for ourselves later in life, and also let's not get things crossed when I say that she was beginning to strip off her tainted clothing before I even gave an answer. A purple and black dress that was tightened at the top to close the breast section by a single drawstring-type black fiber, the faint light of the moon glimmering off of it and tantalizing me further, a lovely ruffled skirt that was just as short up close as I had expected it to be. And with each of those items being thrown off to the side, the distance between us closed to a hair and soon enough even that was between my fingertips, she knew that she had ensnared me in her arms once again and that was the source of her gleeful giggling as I sank my teeth into the nape of her neck. I pulled her into the confessional fully and as I fell onto the small bench that was pushed down and level with the floor she climbed onto my lap and pulled me in for a kiss by the neck, the two of us attacking one another in such a throw of passion that was as lavishly undeniable as it was a poison to the soul. Her thighs latched onto my waist as soon as I had matched her own nakedness, and she started to focus on the emotions as well as the increasingly erratic rise and fall of my chest as she continued to take her place, given some freedom as my own lips and teeth explored her chest while she did. The escalation was coming to a full tilt and she was trying to bring me to the very apex of ecstasy and then through me off of it, her eyes still only concerned with how it all had been able to make me feel. But sadly enough, for the both of us, we had received an unwelcome surprise.

"Get out of there, now, with your hands up!" A distinctively male voice berated the two of us, my body stiffening up, and in the panic I couldn't seem to find my clothes to try and explain away the situation with a clever line or a vague excuse. But what was most disturbing of all was that in my panic and error, my other half had positioned herself behind me and had raised her right leg as though she were going to kick a soccer ball, and the force of the strike sent me out into the church once again. Only this time, I was butt naked.

"Wait, wait! I'm unarmed...and...I...I can explain!" I stammered, the lack of clothes not being an issue so much as the bloody clothing inside of the confessional had been, as he inched his way over to the box from which I had just been flown out of and hurriedly yanking the curtain back to find it completely empty. Not just empty, but picked clean entirely: no clothes, no girl, no costume. And now I stood in the moonlight, butt ass naked to a cop who had half a mind to shoot me quite literally in the ass, and now I was completely on my own.


	7. The Best of Terms

Over the course of the hours that followed, my best guess of just how many being somewhere in the ballpark of eight to twelve, I had been graced with the intimate knowledge of just what a county holding cell looked like from the inside. Not the most cherished of memories in my life, as the officer who arrested me and the two others who came to back him up nearly a half an hour put into the back of a squad car, spending the entire way there still without any clothes on until they were so kind as to cut a hole into a black trash bag so I could wear it as a pair of pants. The official word they gave me was that they couldn't find anything else to give me, although at the time an orange jumpsuit would have sufficed, anything would have been better then facing the drunk tank for the remainder of the night and into the morning in my birthday suit. From an ascetics standpoint the place was plain and to the point: upon walking down the hall and opening the door to the cell itself you could see the majority of the cell thanks to the room being just a wide open space, with a bleakly painted greyscale bench going around all sides of the wall. The only true accommodation was a small wall jutting out from the one side and coming out by about four or five feet, beside it a fairly no thrills toilet and granting some privacy, but still it wasn't much of a courtesy when someone could easily just turn the corner. My main fear had been the kind of clientele that would be held up in there with me, and what I had initially thought to work to my advantage was the fact that I was only sharing the cell with one other man on this night, but if you knew what extreme isolation felt like you'd think twice about that. You see, when you're cooped up in a certain place against your will for long periods of time and you have absolutely nothing to do and not a soul for company, by the time somebody does show up you'll be all too fond of striking up a conversation with them. Although I couldn't necessarily blame the guy for trying, humans are just naturally a social bunch, whether or not its for our own good or not.

"Nice pants..." The burley man spoke up, a pair of denim jeans two sizes far too big (even for him) swaddled around his waist, various stains in hues of blue and green and brown and most of the traditional rainbow splattered all about both of his pant legs, a long and poorly groomed beard falling from his face down to his chestal section. Yes, i'm well aware of the fact that the word I've just used isn't a part of Merriam Webster, but if i'm writing this in an age as modern as we are in now then I have full confidence of finding a button to press that will change that. "What brand are they?"

"Thanks...it's...uh...glad." I awkwardly replied back, at this point I had just assumed that he was beyond intoxicated, judging by the fact that he took my answer one hundred percent seriously and began to nod his head up and down as if he was going to start taking notes.

"No...my mother made these pants for me..." He absentmindedly exclaimed.

"Ooookay, good luck with that, i'm just going to scooch this way..." Rolling my eyes and silently inching my self in the opposite direction of the beast of a man, to which he decided to inch in the same direction, causing me to mouth the words "fuck my life" mutedly at the realization that he wouldn't let me run off. Needless to say much else, it was some of the most agonizing time I had ever spent in my entire life, and so when the faintest footsteps were heard approaching the door I was quick to jump to my feet with one hand holding the trash bag steady around my hips. It was the policeman who had first taken me in, his tired eyes showing the both of us in the tank that he had most likely had the same luck in getting sleep as we did, although the bearded brute did manage to pass out for ten minutes and rather impressively sing "Maggie May" mid snore. With one hand holding the door open, he used the other to toss small bundle of clothing that was calling to me, the night being some of the longest periods of time that I had ever had to be without clothes and the vulnerability had been starting to get to me.

"You're being released, put these on, there's someone here who'd like to speak to you." He commanded with authority in his voice, and as I took to dressing myself he closed the door as to not make it into a show for the passersby, the passive aggressive element coming into it's own as I began to unfold the baby blue t-shirt I had been given to see that it said "I love unicorns" in the most irritatingly bedazzled font. The pants were a faded pair of dust pink, no writing on them thank god, but in the very least it could be seen as an upgrade from before. Knocking on the door to signal that I was ready to be let go, I was lead down the same hallway from the night before, passed a small lobby area with several desks where one would deal with paperwork and booking, and then back out into the light of mid-day. Accept this time around, or rather for what was most likely the first time in almost a year, a swarm of flashing lights and what felt like hundreds of voices all calling out to me at once to have a word with them. Or in other words, the very same blood-thirsty paparazzi's who had been able to infect the lives of those in the spotlight of any society, the only difference in Gotham was that they paraded around talking about doing away with corruption while having a Mafioso slip a stack of Benjamin's into their back pocket for services rendered. A single man stood out from the flood of Pulitzer-chasers and fluff piece editorialists who were craving a way out, wearing a black bowler hat plus a suit and tie to match and was vigorously motioning with his hands that I should escape the frenzy and get into the back of his piano black limousine.

 _Mr. Welman! Mr. Welman!_

 _Reports have said that you died! Why have you been keeping your return to Gotham a secret!_

 _Are you still haunted by what happened last year!_

 _Can we just get a word with you!_

That line of questioning alone had been enough to coax me into the backseat of genuine leather, champagne bottles on ice, and more built in television screens then any sane man would know what to do with. Moments later the elongated vehicle floored it and made its way through the mass of Gotham city lunch hour traffic, honking its horn every few minutes or so to carve a swath of free space on the paved macadam, even going so far as to run a red light or two in the process. Although on thing I had noticed that was either a bizarre twist of fate, and the most painful of coincidences, or a sign that this man was not someone who was shy about how he chose to obey or disobey the law at his leisure. You see, with every single light on the way from county holdings where I had been held to our destination at the prestigiously sculpted Gotham City Mayor's Office, we had not been able to actually get a single red or yellow light. Sure, as we approached them they were as normal and varied as any other time, but surely enough by the time we reached the intersection and prepared to cross the light they would turn green just in the knick of time. One thing that you'll come to learn as you've grown more accustomed to the ways of the people with the silver spoon up their ass, is that they hate to have to be held to the same measure of legal accountability as people they deem beneath them...and would often do or say anything to find the loophole giving them a free pass. I was told by the driver that I was expected by none other than Mayor Ambrosia himself, and that I was to go the sixth floor and watch for the office with his name, more specifically it was a ways down the hall and to right but I digress. Just as I was about to turn the knob of polished brass and enter the room, someone from the other side already had, and as the door swung open the grizzled face of my godfather and friend Michael recoiled in a bit of surprise.

"Jesus, kid, you scared the shit out of me! Well...I'll...I'll be downstairs, I have to talk to you then, alright." I nodded and allowed him to leave my sight, his demeanor slightly off as I was half expecting a comment about dropping the soap, but yet jokes aren't really his specialty when the dark reality is this close. Not to mention he rarely would do such a thing in the company of people he would have to work or otherwise deal with in a more businesslike setting. There was a moderately sized, yet overly thick television in the far end of office which was turned to a public access news network and from the middle-aged man proudly posed with his back to me and his gaze turned to the view from his sixth story window.

...police officials are still debating on whether or not the recent events at the Albatross were linked to gang activity or something else...some news outlets have been tipped off to a mask left at the crime scene, a very similar one that was found in connection to the murder of six men with gang affiliations nearly two weeks ago...the source for this information had chosen to remain anonymous, however their still is mounting evidence that says this vigilante has claimed at least fifteen lives...it will still take some time to piece together what this means...Gotham faithful Bruce Wayne said in a statement today that the attack reinforces that we, more now then ever, need to have faith in our justice system and less in individual intervention...he declined to say anything further on the subject, as he had to leave Gotham on a personal matter...

"You wanted to see me, sir?" I inquired, cutting through the silence as I had my fill with the news reports for the time being, the man standing at just over six feet tall turned on a dime to face me and offered me a very warm and inviting smile.

"Ah, Brian, you know...my wife is always telling me that I should try to go to church more often...of course never in the middle of the night...and never naked. I must admit, when I tried to get a hold of you this morning and found out you were in central holding...I was a bit surprised." He was trying to hold back his own fit of laughter at the mere mention of the nights events that had brought me in, just instead chuckling as he extended his hand to mine which I immediately accepted.

"Sixth floor, huh? I thought with you being the mayor you'd be a bit higher up?" I scoffed with a bit of wry sarcasm, which he got a decent bit of amusement out of.

"Well, one thing you learn in this town, is that if you put yourself in power and you're on the top of a building...you just invite people to throw your ass off." He reasoned, tilting his head to the side to see me a bit more clearly and admire the excellent threads given to me by the officer. "I actually had wanted to speak to you at one point after you got out of the asylum, just to see you were holding up, but I kept hearing good things about you from Michael. But, I just wanted to say that you have my apologies, for your father and I can't imagine what shit like that must do to you. He was a good man, spoke highly of you too, so you've got a lot to live up to."

"So...i'm really not in any trouble...I mean, at all?" Brow furled, quizzically looking at him as he shook his head side to side.

"I was young, too, you know. And I was put up to things or I did things just for the hell of it, and I was thankful enough to have enough people backing me up to still get to where I am, now. Besides, I think the worst part you did yourself." He reminded me with an abbreviated laugh.

"I don't...get it, what do you mean?" I asked him.

"Ever since you were released, you've been able to keep a low profile and you managed to stay out of the way of the tabloids, but...that's all fucked now. You see, you might not realize this but...you aren't the most liked person in Gotham. But...I'll leave that for Michael to fill you in on." He explained.

"So...i'm not complaining or anything but...how does a mayor get me off of public indecency and trespassing charges?" I questioned, having a good joke at my own expense this time.

"Eh, i'm sure the police department would have tacked on a few more charges than that, but i'd like to think that they have some more important things to do with their time, like...buying better clothing for their detainees." He continued, staring down the glittery font of my shirt and eyeing it like the plague. "As of last week, I have began my dual duty as both mayor and police commissioner, and Melvin will be given administrative leave."

"And Gordon? I mean...i'm sure that he would have liked the chance?" I admitted.

"Oh, believe me, a few days before he left I offered...begged him to take the job. No dice. I told him i'd do whatever he asked me to do as long as he would stay in the city just a little bit longer." His enthusiasm dying off as he spoke.

"And what he did say to that?" I asked, another bout of laughter coming from the pained face.

"He told me to bend over, and shove the job straight up my ass." He remarked, making his way to the door before motioning that our meeting had met its end. "I'm sorry to cut this a bit short, but, i'm a busy man."

"Right...thanks." I confessed, all the more grateful that someone had been looking out for me, although some questions had been raised about someone else who I previously thought could be trusted.

In my own mind it all just seemed like the world was testing me, although in my heart it was all the more likely that it was all just a cruel deception and that they all had their own agendas to contend with. But, for the while, it would be my mantra that I would let devils be angels until I was dexterous enough to find the horns and be pleasantly surprised when the kindness of the surface world lived up to its end of the bargain and was just that. Part of me questioned what Penelope would have thought of my own decision to allow myself to inch my way closer to the madwoman, and then again part of me wished I hadn't brought her up at all. One thing was for certain, regardless of what I decided going forward, and that was that I couldn't keep doing this on my own and honestly believe that I was going to make a difference in the tide. It could be an ally, or a friend, I know for certain that some of nights would be a bit easier if that were so. See, when you feel lonely the biggest concern isn't being alone, for that's just not a realistic expectation as a whole: the true fear of loneliness is in seeing each and every person who crosses your path and knowing that not once do you have the heart to know that any of them are your own. Your friend, your dad, your brother, but instead they would all be someone else's and by a lack of association you are merely a wisp to fade away in the breeze without a single imprint to keep you alive. Although having this thought then and there as I exited the office I still managed to raise my head and hold it high, for there was something in me which told me that something lie on the horizon. Something that would make all of the difference, and perhaps...it wouldn't have to be so earth-shattering or ground-breaking as my own melodramatic mind had made it out to be. All it takes is one thing, one day, one moment, one person.


	8. Knots Above and Friends Below

So, have I ever told you about my father? I mean, obviously I've gone into a fairly excessive amount of detail regarding the things his life had effected, myself being one of the most notable of the lot. But, maybe there has been an unfair level of positively charged bias given in his direction, all because there really hasn't seemed to be a dark past or torturous core underlying why he meant so much to me. You see, when it comes down to a simple matter of distinguishing the facts from the lies and the feast from the flies it's important to note that even I didn't know as much as you might expect, but instead I knew him from the things that he had never seen it fit to do. For example, if someone were to speak ill of him or maybe even attempt to sabotage his own standing at work to better themselves, he would always claim that it was a matter of not stooping to their level just to get even. Sure, that might be embossed on a few hundred million thought-provoking and inspirational greeting cards but in practice it was nothing more then a blanket term to poorly disguise the fact that he feared having to fight for anything in life. In some instances it can be stated that man is little more then a very well domesticated animal who forgets who is in charge from time to time, but peculiarly enough those moments of civil disobedience are more telling then the opposite, as it is then in which we discover what truly matters and where a person draws the line. It was said that some men are only willing to properly concern themselves with the likes of three things in life: money, power, and women. But would you care to believe me when I tell you that he had never cared enough to put in the effort and demonstrate ambition enough to become more then a police cadet, and by extension he stood behind all others and felt that the inclusion of additional responsibilities would be too much for him, and as for my mother...that is a topic all to itself.

Everything I have mentioned above had been coming up in my mind at ten minute intervals as I gazed outward and to the open road ahead of both Michael and I, since leaving the Mayor's office he had not yet answered me as to where exactly we were heading, but we made a momentary pit stop at the apartment where he simply told me to fit as much clothing and toiletries as I could into my backpack. Taking a few sets of each garment, I managed to make my luggage as morbidly obese as nature would allow before the two of us tossed our belongings into the backseat and headed south towards the Arlington Bridge that would serve to take us out of the city limits entirely. Some time passed as we mostly didn't have too much to say, but I say that in the best way possible, as he merely was preoccupied with fiddling around with the radio stations in an attempt to find a station that wasn't laughably bad or otherwise cringe inducing as I let myself sort through my thoughts. Personally, it had been growing late in terms of just how long it had been now that he could have spoken up about the incident at the church, but yet he was as restrained and cordial as can be. So in other words, he was acting like a robot who had commandeered his body and was simply using his form as a meat-suit, either that or he also had about the same amount of things on his mind as I did. Twenty minutes into the journey to nowhere, I at long last decided it was time to speak up as I clutched the volume dial with two fingers and turned the sound down enough so that I could be easily heard amongst the music.

"So...you're not going to...like...say something?" I posed the question, much in the same way the blood brings the shark forth from the ocean floor.

"What? About you whipping your dick out for the congregation? Or about the fact that you broke a stain-glass feckin' window just to do it? I...just don't know what to say to that, kid, so i'm just going to laugh instead. Does that make you happy?" He proclaimed, my facial expression still not showing me to be thrilled with his answer but it broke the awkwardness that was sifting through the silence of the carried so far. "Besides, i'm just confused why you did it? Ah, who the fuck am I kidding, I think the reason was wearing the latest trends from the hot-topic collection. I mean, I've done some dumb shit in my life but, was she really that great of a lay?"

"It...it wasn't that, alright?" I confessed, the one thing I had taken out what he had said being the part about there having been a broken window leading into the church, meaning that Temptress had been there some time before we had met the night before and perhaps had even planned to leave me behind all along. The idea not exactly being one that should come off as a shock to me, considering the brief track record I could have composed by this point being nothing but murder, vandalism, and nymphomania. But none the less, I couldn't let Michael grow suspicious of why exactly I was questioning a police report, or even that the idea hadn't actually been mine from the start and pose a million other questions from officials. "It was just...nice, you know? To feel...wanted, maybe even...needed? I just needed a distraction from all of the horrible shit that keeps happening around me."

"Well, that's not the answer for it, alright? And I know you don't want to hear me lecture, believe me, I hate it more then you do. But I just fear...that someday you'll be in a situation where I wont be able to help you out, alright?" He spouted, the extra verbiage mostly going along with his motioning with one free hand away from the wheel to emphasize his own distain for having to take on parental roles. "See, this is why i'm taking you away for a few days, I've been invited to a wedding by a former patient of mine...and he said I could bring somebody along, ergo you're in!"

"And the other women you prey on with the "i'm a doctor" line were busy?" I laughed.

"Jesus Christ, listen, you go to the wedding to pick up the women...never, never, ever bring the girl with you. You'll never hear the end of it, trust me." He explained with a flexed finger pointed halfway between myself and the passenger seat.

"Right...I wander if I just do the old tuck and roll if i'd be able to just walk home..." Muttered under my breathe, but knowing well enough that he could hear me clear as day, in response he locked the doors and rolled his eyes at me.

"First off, the next few days will be for your own good, got it! Besides, if you stay home i'm worried just how many cars you'll destroy..." He finished in a nearly inaudible tone, masking it mostly in a heightened cough.

"It's not like I made the car explode!" I threw my hands up, laughing at the absurdity of his allegation.

"Right...your right, it was just a mercy kill, was it? Huh?" He sighed with a laugh, looking at me for a second before turning his attention back to the road.


	9. Stockholm

(Stockholm)

Have you ever been so terrified to let yourself experience something for just one last time, or less dramatically so, one more time? Maybe you had to face the fears that kept you awake until the earliest hours of the morning, unable to keep yourself from the recollection that something had chained you into submission and refused to let go? The most painful truth is one that far too many people are willing to admit to, and yet far too few would have the desparity of soul to actually do something about, as within the embrace of fear we can spend countless hours concerning ourselves with the monsters that lie behind the door to change. A woman might trust with far too little discretion, lust too gredily, and love with enough ease to bring in enough lost and wicked souls that the barbed and bloodied gates should be shut to prevent further harm. And after each and every failure to launch herself into a newfound escelon of the theological plain, another bathe of ink adorned to her skin: beginning small and easily covered by the sleeves of her shirt, but soon she demands the sorrow to be brought to light on the wings of civil subtlety and the images of her past are climbing up and around her neck. The heartbreak hadnt done her in, nor had the tattoos as they slowly sank in and drew a poignant picture of her past for all of Gotham to see, but it was the stagnating smile that accompanied her elegant sepiatone and crimson wardrobe that had brought the woman to her knees. More then just a testiment to time and a showcase of teeth, that smile which was just as much a monument to all of the things which she had endured to bring a somewhat normal life to her daughter, with the promise of a tomorrow that today could not scarcely remember on the horizon as she approached adulthood. But now she was finding little to satisfy the sickness in the pit of her stomach as she waited by a narrow window of Arkham Asylum's C-Ward, her own flesh and blood thoroughly restrained by the clasps and buckles of a faded straight jacket.

"Mrs. Quinn, I'm very glad that you could come, I have to speak with you about your daughter. I understand that you havent been able to see her much since she was brought in, however you must understand that it is what's best your own safety, I hope you'll understand." He proclaimed as he tried to express as much sympathy as he could for the girl, without jepordizing the safety of others and forgetting just what she had done.

"Doctor, is all of this...really necessary?" She pleaded, turning her head to face the eyes of the man before her with watery eyes which were begging for her to let herself shed a tear for her sake.

"I don't you understand the gravity of what her daughter has done, mame. She has been deemed a threat to everyone around her, and if a few others would have had their say she would be in dark whole for the rest of her life. Like it or not, your daughter is responsible for the deaths of six people." He explained, leveling the playing field and telling her the truth first and foremost, causing her heart to sink deeper then it ever had before and forcing her to sit down on a nearby bench.

"What is it that you want to know..." She solumnly spat, not even wasting the energy to make eye contact.

"We believe that maybe she went through something that might have triggered some of her...behaviors, and some of the other doctors and I were looking through her file...and it says that she went missing for nearly a week?" He posed the question her way, a soft spoken voice coming directly after the most unenthusiastic of nods.

"It...it was about this time last year, we...we were at Gotham National Bank and...these men came in with guns." She claimed.

 _And the weapons they carried in hand was the least of her worries, or in the very least they should have been, if only the realm of hindsight were as crystal clear as the statically annoyed expression had been on her daughter that day. Their true purpose for being at the bank that specific day, was to inquire about an extension to her loan which she had taken out some year before, but now was becoming more and more difficult to pay back on a monthly basis. Dressed to impress without a single factor left to fate, she strutted into the branch with a false sense of confidence that she hoped would knock them dead, but unfortunately for her she would be met by a female branch manager. Usually she knew the staff on hand and could guess within a five minute window just how long it would take to get the answer she wanted out of them, but today the meeting wouldn't be as fruitful and her daughter would have to wait outside until she was done, a low huff coming through her pursed lips, not even wanting to have gone with in the first place. Harley had wanted to go and visit her best friend Pamela and see how she was doing, seeing as she had been dealing with some issues of her own at the time which required a helping hand and a willing pair of ears, but since she had failed her drivers test she would need a ride there. In her own mind, the aggressively impassioned blonde hadn't seen the reason behind the delay as anything short of pure nonsense, as all she had done was run a few stop signs and tell the instructor that he needed to get laid. Clearly somebody had overreacted. And now she would stay seated in a chair that was thinner than her mothers bra strap and bored to no end while everyone in the upper east side of Gotham decided to mosey on in and give her a passing glance, their stares further infuriating her as she wondered what they were so taken by._

 _But you see, it was at about that time that things would seem to tilt in her favor and become a bit more interesting overall, as the pair of revolving doors leading into the branch swung around wildly and a group of five men came storming in with clown masks of a faded white color veiling their true identity. Each of their costumes were unique in their own way and most hadn't kept to a certain dress code besides the disguises, each with an inhuman color of fake hair coming off from the top in shades of green or blue or purple. Hardly wasting any time at all to get started and state their true intentions, each of them raising a gun at about shoulder height and pointing at either one of the tellers or any one of the dozens of now terrified customers. One of them began unloading a small cache of grenades from his pocket and was handing them out to the regulars, forcing their hands around the explosive and removing the pin so that they now stood seconds away from killing themselves or others around them. One of the managers was panning their head and eyes from one end of the lobby to the other, and once they had thought the coast was clear and that the gunmen weren't watching him had began to reach under the desk to get to the silent alarm, a very unwise decision as the but of a rifle collided against their right eye. It wasn't certain to her at this point, but between the overly gelled hairstyle and cheeky grin he had been sporting before they came in, his own pain had brought a smile to her face._

 _"Bad move, pretty boy, anybody else want to be a hero?" One of the masked men offered to the crowd, all shaking inside and out as he let off a round into the tile floor and commanded the other tellers to start unloading their money into a series of unmarked bags._

 _"Wait! Wait! Take me with you!" Harley pleaded, calling as much attention to herself as possible, the words flowing out of her mouth and causing her to falter as she understood just what she was saying...and just what that meant._

 _"Shut up, bitch!" The very same man who had struck the manager screamed at her to remain silent, although in response to his disrespectful tone another came up beside him, shaking his end before raising the gun to the side of his head and pulling the trigger. She nearly jumped out of her skin as the bullet pierced through his skull and came flying out the other side, the body falling to the floor in lifeless ragdoll fashion, the man's killer removing his own mask to see her completely through his own two eyes._

 _"Now, now, that...is no way...to talk to a lady, Especially one as...beautiful...as you." Without the mask Harley could see a mane of blonde hair which had been lazily doused in a bathe of green hair dye, splotches of it seeming to have faded by varying degrees in random places, a full face of makeup with blackened raccoon eyes and a base coat of white with a bright red pair of lips. "Boys, we don't have time to...play with the locals, take the money and...load it up in the car. Make papa proud."_

 _"Yes...uh...yes, boss." One of the surviving men spoke out, stuttering all the way out the door with the cumbersome money bags in tow as the others left with much of the same luggage in a frightful silence._

 _"Oh...it's so hard to get good help these days...now, I...have done this...for a long time...and I have never had a volunteer. Do you...want to...elaborate, my dear?" The ghoulish man questioned her with the most gleefully demonic and high pitched laughter, smiling with a fiendish flow in his step as he approached her, his teeth of a slightly yellowed hue in comparison to the white of his cheeks calling to her as much as his eyes._

 _"It's my motha...I can't stand her, and right about now...i'd be better off anywhere else then with her." She didn't wish to show weakness, but the dead body just within the corner of her eye was making it nearly impossible, the man taking an unprecedented amount of joy out of hearing the subtle hints of her accent coming through as she spoke. "You're...you're him, aren't ya? You're the joka, right? I've heard about you on the news...I don't think you're the monsta they think you are."_

 _"Well, well, well, i'm glad to have a fan club. But I cant just pass up an...open invitation to the fun house. If you'd like to...I would be...honored to give you a tour. Show you who I truly am." He was gliding ever closer as the words were being spoken into her eardrums from inches away, his hand extending towards her to invite her to take his own. "What's your name, beautiful?"_

 _"Harley...Harley Quinn." She commanded while taking his hand and grasping it firmly, her chest pushed outward towards the Joker as he bent over slightly to let out an unrestrained fit of maniacal laughter._

"Mrs. Quinn, do you know what exactly happened to you're daughter? Did she ever mention to you...where she was that week?" The doctor inquired, prodding for anything that might help the situation.

"Doctor...I...I don't think that my daughter ever really came back..." She confessed, returning to sight of her darling child, who now was matching eyes with her through the window and giggling at the sight of her mother on the other side of the glass.


	10. Close to Home

Can a man truly ever lose oneself to such an extent that he no longer is the man he once was, or in the very least claimed be? If you would or could lose sight of an identity that had been yours ever since your birth, then what exactly would you presume to be? A Figment? A shadow? A testament that stands before all who have the memories the prove the existence of a better time in your life, or in retrospect a better you at a worse time in life? There is oh so much more to the details regarding what makes us in this life then the concept of a name or briefing by those who may see you frequently, so then again can you really ever lose yourself? Is it the dull tone in your voice as you speak words in defense that perhaps had at one point been used to crucify others, or maybe the uneven feeling in your chest as the night comes to greet you each day and you realize that the past may have forgotten about you...but yet you haven't forgotten it? You could spend the precious time and energy you have to try and reclaim a past you had once taken all to yourself, but yet when given the necessary hindsight to do what is best and move on, instead of letting go of the trophies of yesterday you would swat at the hands of faith and grand intent. When the last rays of the sun have been cast against your chest, and should you be of such mal-mannered poise to take up your mantle once again, you may just find yourself a mere foil of your own intentions. You might just become a man who stands to lose all that you hold dear, or be left a pawn in the schemes of others who know you far better then perhaps you even know yourself, and your failure to choose the appropriate action when the need arises might just be the last thing you ever do. Over-stimulated, over-saturated, overly obsessed, completely unwilling to listen to reason and stubborn as an ox, you might just find yourself to be Bruce Wayne.

"Master Wayne, as much as I do adore taking your dates home in the wee hours of the morning, perhaps from now on you could...at least...speak with them beforehand, perhaps?" An elderly man in a finely and crisply ironed suit spoke to the thirty-something year old man, who had been held up in the somewhat hidden level of his estate for the last four hours, and the task of taking the somewhat displeased and barely dressed younger woman home had been left up to him.

The crippling nature of age, even when it hasn't yet set in for the long haul, is in the minds own fluidity in remembering a more suitable time which has since been stripped away from them. For instance, the presence of a lover who has made themselves scarce for any number of reasons, the once unfazed and well manicured rationale which now has given way to a shaky hand and a slouched vertebrae, our own class and self imposed better nature now a sarcastic cocktail of bitterness and resentment with a line of envy in place of the salt around the glasses rim. Bruce Wayne hadn't been the type for egregious indulgences or even the one to partake in social etiquette of any regard, but now as he got older he was beginning to form a rather dangerous line of thinking in his approach to things, thinking less and acting more as the elder years of his fleshy vessel steadily came towards him he clung to the inner mentality of a much younger person. This disconcerting pattern of behavior hadn't gone unnoticed by his faithful and devoted butler and lifelong friend Alfred Pennyworth, who had taken up the nasty habit of hanging about just out of sight so that he could keep an eye on the man he had practically raised single handedly since the age of eight.

"Well, perhaps you might be able to get one of them to find you someone nice, i'm sure they have lovely mothers?" He jested, half raising a glass in toast to his own proposition before toddling his head from side to side as he saw his old friend scoff in a half baked and self inflicted ignorance as he further entered the dimly lit scenery of the Wayne manor common room. Downing the cinnamon colored fluid which had all the while been resting in the abbreviated glass, his mental mantra of "one more sip" being proven all the more false as he took the liberty of breaking the seal off of another bottle which had been patiently placed on a finely lacquered nightstand by the side of the armchair upon which he sat. His head had remained just as clammy as it had been most of the night, his hands freely and forcefully gripping the sides of his seat as if there had been a question of whether or not he would be able to maintain his place atop of the furniture, but easily enough Bruce had been keenly observant enough to draw attention to Alfred's eyes straining over the sight of the now somewhat pilfered container. As if the blood had failed to circulate fast enough to comply with his prompt decision to return to his feet, he staggered momentarily but kept his hand outstretched so that he wouldn't end up causing concern, meaning to shrug off the misstep and claim to as no more than his foot being asleep.

"Master Wayne, if you choose to spend you're afternoons spilling a five hundred thousand dollar bottle of scotch, might I suggest investing in some breathe mints? Your breath smells like a brewery." He told him in a chastising manner.

"I'll look into it..." He replied, absentmindedly looking forward in a trace-like state at a slender seventy inch television that had been on before, but yet only seconds earlier had its volume been raised to the point where one could make out the audio. "It's getting worse out there, Alfred."

"Then, might I suggest we request to have the jet prepared, sir? I'm sure Las Vegas or Metropolis would be lovely this time of year?" He remarked without the slightest trace of trickery or cruel intent.

"This isn't going to get better by me running away...this...this is different. Have you seen the latest reports? They're calling him Invictus, they're saying he is a homegrown solution to a homegrown issue with the gangs, and he's leaving behind more then a few bruises." He coldly spat as he tossed a folded newspaper in his direction of which he caught just as swiftly as it was thrown, the headline on the front page reading 'Masked Man Strikes Again, Leaving Seven Dead.'

"Do you really think that this is a productive way to spend your time, sir? You were the one who told me that you wanted to fight crime with a face, wasn't that right? Then perhaps the solution lies in the hands of Bruce Wayne?" He suggested with an earnest smile.

"believe it or not, old friend, even I have my limits..." He trailed off.

"It never stopped you before, even when you were a young boy, you were quite capable when you put your mind to it. I will say this, though, there are other things in this life then trying to do the job of the police force single handedly." He confessed to Bruce, a warm and heartfelt forewarning intertwined within the words of encouragement.

"Are you afraid I'll be become obsessed and lose myself to a whale?" He asked, his eyebrows sent skyward as he let out a brief and pained laugh.

"Perhaps, master Wayne, i'm just trying to start you off with a smaller fish?" Alfred answered.

"Don't worry, I have a plan...I always do..." He spoke exasperatingly as the news coverage on screen had turned away from reports of the gang violence plaguing the city and to the face of a young man, the pictures on screen showing a matching set of dark circles underneath his eyes as he had been attempting to get out of the sight of paparazzi.

"Somebody you know?" Alfred inquired, his head turning to the side to watch the television with him.

"No...but I plan on making it my top priority." He responded without taking his eyes away from the topic at hand.

"Right...will you be inviting him to tea, or strapping him the hood of your car, then?" He said, inquisitively.

"Alfred...Gotham can't take another power struggle, no matter who or what is involved, when you give someone a small fortune straight out of arkham you create a threat." He explained, further.

"Then, might i suggest...looking to his past and his candor instead of his pocketbook? Perhaps, the two of you have more in common then you may think?" He offered the idea forward freely, but yet Bruce turned away and slowly walked through the doorway and out of his sight by the time he was finished with his thought.

"...we're nothing alike." He obstinently finished the conversation as he paused for a second a few feet out from the door before leaving his caretaker all to himself, Alfred simply shaking his head and letting out a heavy sigh.

"Perhaps you're right...your inheritance was bigger." He sarcastically quipped, his own body moments later leaving the room to the stillness that left only the memories of time since passed to linger forever onward.


	11. A Kinder Heart

Never before had there been, nor would there ever again be a thicker stench of worry and malcontent then there was overhead of the facilities at Gotham Memorial Hospital that night in question, where innocence had become a cruel tease to mock the saints into submission. Hope was a finite substance that had become as hot a commodity as oil had been in such a modern age, being enlivened by those of which had been lucky enough to procure it in bulk only to dangle in the faces of those who would do anything to change the oncoming tide. In the heart of the intensive care ward a long procession of rooms embossed in a mixture of frenzy and near deafening silence contrasted themselves by a mere sense of comparison, in one of the calmer rooms a heavy stillness remained as a young man with tattoos running up the sides of both his arms maintained his resolve in not once taking his eyes away from his brother who simply lie motionless in the bed. Beyond that, he had not been seen making a single example of complex nervous function for a number of weeks, his brain damage having resulted in enough blood loss that he had slipped away into a comatose state. The physicians had not been the most helpful, either, having said numerous times that with his condition he could very well wake up the next morning but still be just as capable of staying this way for the rest of his life, but that was an answer that the young man known as Victor Velasquez couldn't bring himself to accept. Each and every day since he had been brought in, he would come by to see him for a matter of a few hours, which sadly enough would amount to little more then him talking amongst himself and trying to not bring up the sense of self imposed guilt that managed to strike him in dead in the center of his chest and relieve him of any of the false praises which would trail behind him were he to venture anyplace else. As long as he stood in that one expanse of some two hundred square feet, he could see under the covers of a brother who merely longed for the improvement of his ailing kin, that above all else he had been the coward who had single handedly sent his brother halfway to hell.

"Don't worry, hermano, I haven't given up on you...I'll...I'll find whoever did this to you." He vowed with the stray beeps and whistling of the medical equipment being the only response he was going to receive.

"Is that so...well, if you're hoping to find somebody to bounce ideas off of...you might not exactly be in the best place. I mean...I think he's more of a listener then an idea man." A bit more poised and high pitched voice called out from behind where he had been standing, a very slender man with short, black hair which had appeared to have been thrown about by a harsh wind and a lovingly tailored suit of red and black grabbing ahold of his lanky frame. He gave the most immeasurable scent of fine cologne and coffee grounds, but yet at the same time his cheeky smile which bore a somewhat disturbing undertone with his mouth pearly whites which were so straight that they had almost seemed too well manicured. The dullest tinge of an accent could be heard behind his inflections which were more conditionally placed then any person would ever have, it sounding English at first but at times coming off as a rehearsed British accent rather then one you were born into. "You are Victor, I presume? Your reputation precedes you, im afraid."

"Man...I don't know who you are, but unless you're a bitch...don't come in here acting like one, capuche?" Like a caged animal being forced to perform a trick, Victor had not given any thought as to how one should properly introduce themselves, and he had always seen flattery as a means to hide the knife you had at the ready and reserved for the back of another at a later date. Needless to say, Gotham had taught him a flavor of paranoia that had made him obsessed with ridding his life of all apparent possibilities of being someone else's fool.

"Well, then, I suppose that I should be a bit more direct then, shouldn't I? It has come to my attention that this hospital had blatantly refused to accept any more cash, checks, or any sort of payment in your name...needless to say, they've been well informed." He was tracing circles along the tile floor with one foot in an impatient and fanatic display as he continued, never quite certain of whether or not to keep his hands at his sides or stuffed headlong into the deepest depths of his pockets so he would find contentment in going back and forth between the two.

"And just...how the fuck did you find out about that?" Slightly annoyed, the distance between the two of them evaporating within seconds, stray pieces of saliva spewing out from behind his lips with the question as he hadn't told anyone nor would he have figured that the matter of medical bills would become a topic of discussion within an urban environment.

"Listen, I know...that you are in pain, and that you have these feelings of insecurity about just what might happen to your brother. You are not alone in that, but the thing is that sometimes you just don't know which backs to scratch and which hinges need to be greased in order to get certain...annoyances out of the way and out of your life. Understand? I want to help you, nothing more, and I have the money to do so and can get it to the hospital director within two days. Now, I understand that they have given you a time limit, as well, is that correct?" The stale air circulating as his eyes widened and his mouth hung low, this was enough of a sign for the man to proceed with his proposition, taking a sleek phone of the most ivory color out from his jacket pocket and bringing up a single picture for Victor to see. In this photograph which now had been turned about to just the proper angle for him to see, was a stack of hundred dollar bills structured in the shape of a pyramid atop of a luxurious kitchen table, a small watermark of that same days date being placed in the bottom right.

"You come in here...and expect me to just believe you...how do I know that you wont put a bullet in my head the second I give you what you want?" He demanded, thinking through just what could come to pass if he would decide to take him up on the offer, regardless of the lack of detail towards what he was demanding in return.

"See, that's the best part, Victor. I'm going to give you exactly what you want, first and foremost, and then as a sign of good faith you simply give me what I want. I mean, surely a small favor wouldn't be beyond you after I saved your brother from certain death, yes? I'd love to do the work pro bono, but this is a time and place where a man's skills mustn't be taken for granted, and our time and our word is all we have. What they never say about this...this line of work, is that like it or not family is an obligation one mustn't have, but then again we cannot change the way life works, can we?" He proposed, attempting to appeal to the rugged and emotionally vulnerable man, Velazquez not realizing just how undressed this man had made him without so much as a single expletive or threat, and as much this man had already seen and heard he yet had still not chose to end him when he had the chance.

"So...what do you want me to do?" He inquired of the man.

"Just a few moments of your time, at another time, of course. Let's just say that I am a man who has a certain interest in a similar business to yours, I have a product that I believe the people of Gotham would absolutely love to get their hands on. In fact, I'll do you one better, a little extra add-on bonus for your cooperation." He gestured towards him with on free hand, letting the potential for a handshake mark the beginning of a future partnership, should he pursue such a thing.

"Oh yeah...and what exactly is that?" Victor beckoned.

"let's just say... I know who informed the board of directors of the true nature of your business and where your money comes from, and I also am aware of exactly where he'll be this weekend." He finished, Velasquez's hand feverishly extended and took his hand without further question.

"Who...are you?"

"Just...call me the Advocate." He amusedly replied, a smile once again breaking through the otherwise delightful disposition.


	12. Polite Company

I've already gone over who I am a few times by now, but I mustn't make light of those who perhaps have only recently came into the mix, or those of you who maybe weren't paying enough attention when I first had gone over the basics. In short, im a fairly simple man, one who never truly asked for very much and as a matter of extension from such would never have done much for the sake of procuring a personal sense of achievement for myself. For better or worse, my meager existence was a demonstration in just how nonchalant a man could be in the face of future uncertainty lingering just outside of the stretch of the dying embers of the horizons heavenly orange glow. As of this point in time which you have read to I am currently a nineteen year-old man who hardly has a job, and even less in the way of a stable mantra to will me towards any one direction in life, but yet to make matters all the more difficult the rest of the world seems to fail to notice what I clearly had long before money had become a factor. Perhaps I should have taken the time to assess whether or not I should have considered which of the two pale conceptualizations had been the lesser of the two evils? But then again is it being true to ones own self to find the best option before you to simply choose to either be a demon and be ignored by the masses, or merely be a despicable person of humanity and be lauded by the likes of the blind? The polaroid's and public officials had failed to see me on a few accounts by this point, and instead looked at my past pedigree and personal losses to crudely compose a stereotype of who and what I was meant to be, forking a smile between their cheeks out of pity and interpersonal accountability. As sad and baseless as the thought would seem to be to some, it was at about that point where I began to prognosticate amongst the dimly lit recesses of my brain that it would serve me well to emotionally distance myself from the lot of them, and seriously consider the way forward to discovering the cure for my ailing soul. Regardless of all that had come to pass up until that exact moment and the wondering eyes of the powers that be, I now had a reputation to uphold and without success I would surely draw far too much attention to myself, they had figured me to become another youthful playboy with my financial good fortune...and soon enough I would have my moment to taste the waters of Gomorra.

"Fuck...that doesn't look good..." Michael remarked to himself in a huff, my eyes catching a wisp of smoke starting to creep out from the crack between the cars outer body and the hood, a few moments later the car had slowed to a crawl off to the side of the road.

"You waited until there was smoke coming from your engine to notice that?" I questioned him with a bit of listlessness as I had just then been stricken of my otherworldly temple of inner cognitive safe haven.

"No, smart ass, the car was overheating while you were spacing out of the goddamn window, and then it started sounding like there was a quarter clanging around inside of the engine. I...I don't think we're going to be getting there on time." He elaborated as he gestured to the hood as the grey vapor refused to let up even with him having pulled over to the side of the road and then seconds later turning the car off completely.

"Well...you said that it was overheating, when was the last time to added oil or coolant?" I wasn't the type to know the first thing about how an automobile works, outside of the fact that when I turn the key in the ignition I have few problems, but even I knew not to let your fluids run too low if you were going to be traveling long distances. In a way, it could be said that there is a bit of fatalism in the sense that I had been given a last minute invitation, seeing as if I hadn't then I would have simply been given an enraged phone call wherein i'd laugh at his lapse in judgment. Not because i'm a heartless human being, and I would end up having to save his own ass in that kind of situation, but because while i'm a hopeless fuckup by nature he's expected to be a bit more or point.

"It said that I wasn't supposed to do that for another a thousand miles or so..." He told me, looking away from my own face and back at the car as it lay dormant on the long and winding road which hadn't seen another car pass in all of the time we had spend standing idly, and seeing as Michael had taken the initiative to pick this road solely for sightseeing purposes and to avoid traffic we most likely wouldn't be seeing any anytime soon.

"Shit, Mike, your car has been around since friggin' Truman! Do you have anyone you could call out here to come and pick us up, besides me? Or, I don't know...triple a, maybe?" I asked him, the obvious role reversal becoming a source of agitation for him as he had to realize that someone half his age who was spending their nights mooning the holy sacraments had been speaking with more sense and practicality then they had been.

"Well..." He was thinking as he spoke, the words not coming out with the same wry smile that he had usually trademarked to sway the opinions of the young and impressionable in his favor. "...I know one guy who I could call, well I mean...someone who might be willing to help someone with several million in the bank. Think of it like triple a for the wealthy and entitled, a welcome rescue service for guys in Versace suits who aren't shy about blowing a quarter million."

"I...I don't know, I mean...just because I can spend the money, doesn't mean that I should, alright?" I reasoned, causing him to momentarily roll his eyes in my direction before taking a step towards me and reassuringly placing one hand on my shoulder.

"Brian, I get it, but you know what...i'm not asking you to buy a yacht, here, alright? You're young, and right now you need to be able to realize that when an opportunity presents itself to make a few memories and get yourself out of a slump...you should fuckin' take it, kid." His smile became enhanced and almost pungently joyful as he knew that I was folding into the fabric of that oh so enjoyable infusion of indifference and hopefully vein denial, my lips opened once or twice to speak with little to say in my defense before letting out a sigh.

"What's the fucking number?" My voice tersely rang out.

He had feverishly retrieved his phone seconds after my official notice of approval, and it had taken roughly an hour after such time for our ride to show, the most unnerving aspect had to have been the idea that I was literally going to be giving what had to have been a life changing amount of money to someone I knew nothing about. That's right, I was simply being given the good word of a man who had spent the better half of a the last few decades bandaging the wounds of a class of people who's idea of conflict resolution was a wooden bat to the temple, and now it was merely a manner of time before I realized just now truthful he had been about the people I was slowly becoming more intimately connected with...whether it was due to the my face at day or the sentinel that crawled forth from the shadows of the night. When the faint beams of light coming off of the elongated and lavishly waxed black limousine came into view from as far away I could see, their headlights being the only light all around us in a sort of way that seemed to be like that of a light at the end of a tunnel, except this time it was the safety of mind coming straight at us. Outside of the fact that the body of the vehicle looked to be so lovingly cared for that it made me think that someone must have wiped it down with a diaper, there wasn't much that could be seen from the outer body alone. That being said, however, upon it stopping beside us on the road which still remained all to ourselves I could see very easily why Michael had been so eager to have...well...whoever it was come to get us. Inside of the limo was a throng of women who were each seated in a sort of "l" shaped pattern of plush fabric sporting a slightly dingy grey color, but looks aside it still to this day is the most comfortable thing my ass has ever touched down on, the centerpiece of which they all were corralled around was a perfectly illuminated bar which had at least two dozen glasses and varieties on stock and on demand for the persons drinking pleasure, and lastly the women...all with smiles that could turn Hitler into mother Teresa trained on you from the second you placed a toe into the car...all of them sporting dresses that would have their mothers rolling their eyes and praying for their sakes. I like to think of myself as a man who takes the idea of being respectful towards all women more seriously then anything else, despite my own exploits in the past, and with an ideology of "look, don't touch" being questioned by a sea of Dolce and Gabanna which were longing for me to do much of the opposite.

"Brian, you want a drink, kid?" Michael called out to me after we both had taken our seats inside of the limousine, he already having had poured himself a glass of scotch had now been leaning in towards the bar to make a few spirits for some of the ladies, a simple nod was all that I gave him as he lost in the dream of getting the attention of just one of them. A glass handed to me shortly thereafter, I took a small sip to test the taste of the unknown splendor waiting in my chalice, some of the women taking notice so I decided to quickly down the rest of it as if my life depended on it.

"Spice rum, with a hint of cinnamon, nice." I said aloud, Michael giving me a friendly smack to the side of my arm before returning to his own polite company, baring his pearly white teeth and an opening line of "don't worry ladies, im a doctor..." being about where I began to trail off the eardrum rupturing level of noise from the bass centric music and the blue-ish tinted lighting that made me think the interior had been lit up via black light.


	13. The Purest Rhetoric

"Does your dad do all of the talking for you?" The smell of a feminine fragrance that had been laced with apple and strawberry and applied far too greedily wafted up into the innermost part of my nostrils, packing quite a punch as the limousine sped up over a pothole some twenty miles or so down the road from where I had got in.

"Actually...uh...he's not my father, he's my godfather." I spoke through the violent outbursts of electronically charged music and practically screamed the answer directly into her eardrums, although even then the vixen seemed to have some difficulties discerning part of what I had said. "It's complicated, but...he's just always been like the uncle I never got to have, I guess he...uh, I guess he's a little more outgoing."

"Well...you should try and loosen up a bit, okay, sweetie?" The otherwise affectionately used term of endearment made me cringe just as quickly as the syllables rang off of her lips, a remarkably forced smile breaking through my own barren, battered and deprived face.

She had definitely taken the approach of lathering on so many different bath and body products to hide something, most likely something she had either been ashamed of or insecure about, or maybe even a piece of herself that hadn't gone well with the very ambitions which had placed her in the same car as Michael and I. People who either had lofty goals or heavily inebriated senses of self worth because of the medias own adulterated vision of true fulfillment would often find themselves feeling hopelessly stuck in their current situation in life, and so they learned that being an escort to the top one percent would yield a brighter future then slaving away at a nine to five. Most times, there would be a certain etiquette behind it all: any sort of service to those who would be willing to pay a premium would often see it prudent to have attractive members of the opposite sex on hand to make clients more inclined to spend more and do so more frequently. It's a rather ingenious way to get into the pockets and Swiss bank accounts of people who honestly don't deserve to have a dozen zeros behind their monthly statements, because as we all know in this life there are only so many constants, but whether it be feast or famine we will all be subject to the desires of the flesh. It may come on more strongly to some then it does others, and a great many of us may still be able to manage their own carnal pleasures enough so that they not see themselves become a mere ghoul given the guise of a gentleman, but it shall still haunt us whilst we continue to draw breath. Her small-talk hadn't ceased in the remainder of the car ride the rest of the way to our destination some forty minutes later, the vehicle stopping momentarily as we were awaiting clearance to move through a rod iron fence that had blocked our path at a main gate which lead upwards to a sprawling estate covered on all sides by sparse woodlands. A swirling driveway leading us further inland to the only semblance of proof that this natural biome had been disturbed by mankind's own hand, the structure came complete with four floors and housed enough space to satisfy hundreds of guests at any given time, keeping them in good spirits with an all-inclusive bar as well as an on-site movie theater and indoor waterpark.

 _Congratulations to the future Marco and Francesca Falcone!_

The gleam cascading off of the cloth banner which had been adorned with text lovingly written by hand with a dutiful grace and care behind the penmanship, the curvature to each of the letters as they flowed into one another cleanly and without any mistakes that would have been evident had it been done by any lesser a person. Without a shred of doubt in my mind, there would be no mistaking the last name on that banner for the one known to be most synonymous with the depravity and cancerous malignancy which had strangled Gotham for decades without relief, and so I was not going to let this revelation go unnoticed as I quickened my pace upon reaching the resorts main lobby and gave Michael a tap on the arm. Two of the women from the limo had chosen to follow us as we made our way through the main entrance and checked in with a rather lively receptionist who had informed us that the activities wouldn't start until the following morning, the rest had either remained in the car or had dispersed throughout the building to find someone else to keep company for the night. He took notice of my bid for his attention only after I had done so a second and third time, by this time I had resorted to basically just slugging him to keep his eyes of the sirens in six inch heels who had forked their arms around him on either side. At first he didn't say anything, more or less mouthing the words and making a sort of marginally psychotic facial expression which displayed a mixture of blue balls and jetlag, his pupils dilating as he looked at me in disgust as if he were a dog and I had been keeping him from his toy.

"Yes...yes? I'm listening, kid, what is it?" He whimpered with a bit of an exasperated yelp at the end of it.

"You said that we were going to the wedding of a client of yours, you didn't tell me that we were going to see Tony Montana and Bonnie Parker recite their vows." My lips moving as little as possible as I closed in on his ear to prevent anyone else from knowing the context of the conversation, Michael scoffing at the nicknames I had given for the soon-to-be bride and groom.

"Brian, you're overreacting, alright. The Falcone's aren't as bad as the press make them out to be, and they invited the both of us along as a favor to me for helping them out in the past, that's what matters. Now, I don't ask you for a lot, but I need you to get outside of that little pity bubble that you put yourself in whenever you see an opportunity to have a bit of fun, get it? I know you've been through hell recently, but you have a problem realizing when something is going well for you, you always want to call it quits instead of sticking around through the good and bad. Now, that church shit you pulled, that's a start but you need to listen to that part of yourself, kid. Live a little, while you have the time. Now, I want you to take this...whenever you feel like it would do you the most good, alright?" He finished as he retrieved a small Ziploc bag from his pocket which couldn't have held more then a few watch batteries, inside of it was a single purple and teal capsule with white lettering along the sides.

"What...what the fuck is this?" I inquired, sideswiped by the sudden appearance of an unknown pharmaceutical being offered to me, and Michael being the one to hand it over to me wasn't much of a consolation.

"It's just some LSD..." He continued as his voice seemed to meander off into a low tone and a forcibly produced cough covering the rest of what he had wished to say. "This weekend is a chance for the both of us to get out of the funk we're in, get it? I'm just giving you a little something to help you relax, just make sure you eat something when you take it, though."

"Oh...it's just some LSD...you act like you're giving me some fucking Tylenol, jesus, Dr. Doolittle is looking more believable as a doctor then you are right now." I criticized, half laughing at the absurdity of the supposed guardian of mine being the one who was willingly giving me a potentially dangerous drug as if it were Mentos. "Wait, so then...where are we going to sleep? I mean...you did get a room for us, right? I mean, and I don't know about you, but I don't think my jeans and t-shirt are going to cut it for a wedding."

"Well...there's an old suit of mine in my bag, they'll watch our belongings so anytime you need anything from the bags just let them know. And besides, you don't need a room, alright? I'll be trying to see if I can find myself some company tonight, and if i'm successful i'll have a room to sleep in, I just figured you'd be doing the same." He reasoned.

"Great, I'll smell like bigfoots taint by the time the wedding starts, so...I guess this is where we part ways?" I asked, slightly infuriated by his lack of communication about leaving me stranded in a place completely foreign to me for the next two and a half days.

"Just relax, and go with the flow, kid. We'll run into one another before the weekends over, I've gotta a feeling." His eyes lighting up as he turned to see that the dulcet duo who were originally swaddled around his sides had now began to move on from his sight and further onward into the complex, he cast on last glance my way before taking off after them with as much feverish folly as a man having the time of his life.

"Yeah...well, then what the fuck am I supposed to do?" I posed to the air around me and the ground beneath me, not a soul giving the attention required to answer, walking a few paces to the side before sliding my back down a nearby wall and using the foundation to give myself some much needed time alone.


	14. Leisure Suit Destiny

"Excuse me...can I help you?" A rather shrill voice asked of me while my eyes had still remained shut and my body still in an Indian style formation on the ground level, my instincts had never paid enough mind to the idea that I was a bit underdressed for the occasion, let alone the establishment it was being hosted in. His hands were fidgeting about as if he were equally annoyed by my being there and offended by the thought that I would lounge so carelessly, the walls being recognized as cherished works of art by the likes of the resort staff. His attentively woven suit said "trust fund" and his fake accent that was trying so damn hard to be Italian said "I attended college for a year and I apparently know everything," a glitzy nametag informing me that he was the manager the model example of just how far a douchebag could climb the ladder of command.

"Well...for starters, you could let me get some shut eye, or a pillow." I returned without even looking over to see his reaction, he would begin to fumble with his words as he proceeded to lose his way in a fit of anger, staring intensely in my direction as I tried to regain my level of comfort.

"We do not allow outsiders onto the premises, and it is against our policies to have anyone loitering, so I think you should be on your way." He told me condemningly so, as if he were scolding a small child for wrongdoing, however I could only find it a bit disrespectful for him to just assume that I wasn't wanted at the meeting of the great minds of Scrooge and Crouch.

"I'm not sure if you know this or not, but I think you're supposed to keep your dick in your pants and...you know, out of your personality?" My eyes opened mid sentence with a completely deadpan expression across my face as I slowly got up from my knees and stood upright, my own form towering over him by at least a foot and a half.

"If you don't leave I will call the authorities..." He began to trail off as out of the corner of my vision, another man who was of a slightly similar stature to my own came into frame, placing one hand on the staff member and interrupted his train of thought.

"Am I interrupting something? Gary, right? I see you've already met Mr. Welman, he's here for the Falcone wedding, could you be so kind as to show him to his room? Wherever that is?" The man commanded, through tone alone he had silence his own audacity and had reduced him to a sheepish field mouse, now with my eyes focused on him centrally I knew exactly who this man was...for better or for worse.

"Of course, Mr. Wayne, i'll get to that right away." He squeaked, doing little more then mouthing the words to him as he started towards the front desk to check something on a rather cumbersome desktop computer setup, hurriedly bringing his hands to the keys as if the devil himself were breathing down his neck.

"It's an odd choice of location, you know? Do you often choose to spend your free time watching the children of some of the most notorious criminals in all of Gotham walk down the aisle?" Bruce Wayne was rarely depicted as a man without a sense of purpose, and because of such a referential description, if he was to speak to you for more then a few seconds then he was taking an interest in you. Which, can easily be why I previously listed recognizing him as a case of a "for better or worse" scenario, my face had been covered when I saw him last but I wouldn't take the chance of him putting two and two together and posturing to the socialites that he had deduced what the police hadn't cared enough to.

"I could say the same thing to you, sir. I'm here with a friend of mine...he just so happens to...well, not be here." I replied, mostly feeling the need to defend my own being there, as I could feel his coffee colored eyes tensely bore through whatever effort to disguise the awkwardness of the oddly personal attack beginning.

"I'm here to wish the family luck, most people do not know this but the Wayne's and the Falcone's go back quite a ways...although they might not have the best track record, I still honor the past." He spoke in a tone of cold opposition, but yet he himself was saying the words that would make him seem to be in a sort of conflict with himself, he tilted his head to the side to begin again with a bit more privacy. "I could make a phone call to the census bureau, and they would say that you are a dishwasher, but...if I were to make a simple visit to your place of work they would tell me that your availability has been erratic at best...and you've worked two days in the last two weeks. And maybe, if the city weren't so preoccupied with the gangs and issues of domestic terrorism, maybe they'd be asking just how one of the wealthiest men your age spends his time. So, what have you been up to?"

"Pilates." My body language not changing one bit, standing perfectly still, save for my hands now being raised slightly and shoved into the recesses of my pockets in an attempt to create a noticeable bit of defensive posture.

"Pilates?" He repeated, dumbfounded, clearly not taking the joke to heart.

"...and a bit of yoga, you know, to keep things fresh." I continued the bluff, he took a few steps back in I could only imagine was his way of changing the topic and leaving things where they currently stood, perhaps he was viewing the encounter as a warning...but to me he merely came across as an asshole.

"Well, I am glad that you are recovering, I know that it must be difficult to come back to society after so long. Im sure that certain practices are difficult to do away with, like not having to take pills each day, but i'm sure you'll find your own way."

"And of course you'd be the authority substance abuse, wouldn't you, Mr. Wayne? Well, at least the little blue pills, I imagine?"

"I don't know what you're talking abo-" He tried his best to counter, but I had cut him off before he got the chance.

"Hey, for a man at your age, its okay to be a little embarrassed...I've just heard that WayneTech's stock is the only thing you've been able to get up these days. It happens to the best of us."

"Highly inappropriate, Mr. Welman. If you'll excuse me, I have to make my rounds to the rest of the guests, but stay awhile if you have the time. The wedding isn't until tomorrow afternoon, after all." Wayne had had enough of my tone by this point, not leaving enough of a gap in dialogue for me to respond in any way to what would soon be an abruptly rude exit, the clerk coming over to see me just as he did so.

"Here is the luggage you asked for, sir, I can take it back behind the counter once you've gotten what you need." He said as he handed the beige suitcase over to me, of which I then promptly sat it on it's back and began to sort through the contents held within, amongst the overabundance of pop-top collared shirts and cologne bottles there lie a single three-piece suit...a suit of a putrid bright orange. "If that is all?"

"Thank you..." I replied as I took the garment out from the suitcase and handed it back to him, indirectly answering his request to leave with a silent nod of approval, I unfurled the set of frightening fabrics and held them against my person to do my best to see how they would look on me. Needless to say, looking as if Charlies Brown's Great Pumpkin was on an all night bender and furiously vomited on you wasn't going to do anyone any favors, but for the moment there wasn't much else I could do but laugh at the situation. "You've got to be fucking kidding me...I look like Lloyd Christmas."


	15. The Darkness Calls us by Name

_"She told you that in confidence, don't you get that? She would do anything for you..."_

 _"Sir, I believe you've had more then enough to drink..."_

 _"Tonight...where we're going, we don't need limits..."_

 _"Alright folks, we just have time for one more dance, I hope you enjoy this ladies..."_

 _"Brian...I never do this..."_

My eyes were glassy, my hands and fingers alike were shaking vigorously without any hope of a power within to silence them, my hair had never looked better in the moment but yet there I was with a deafening ringing in my ears and all I could hope for was a quiet place to steal myself away to until I died of the sickness that was consuming me whole. The shadows in the whole of the complex, both of its exterior and interior, were like the eyes of a fallen god watching over those who he had deemed unworthy enough to fall alongside him. A sense of immediate danger was suffocating me and as my chest grew heavier by the second, as if a large man with steel toed boots was line dancing on my breastplate. And as I stood beside the bathroom mirror, closing my eyes...it appeared before me...in much the same way that a bit of debris or hair would irritate the eyes when stuck someplace they shouldn't be. Clearing my eyes out as best as I could with my own two hands, it remained in the reflection of dinged and misappropriated piece; a figure entirely shrouded in black robes, an elongated nose protruding from a discolored, white mask. The eyes were nothing but an endless abyss that seemed to scale forever onward, deeper still within the confines of the disguise. They had almost begged me to hone in on them with just a bit more patience and awareness, but yet they stood firmly in place, or rather where they would have been stayed firmly in place, and furthermore gave the impression that they were fixated on my own person. A distorted, low hum of a soothingly demonic bass moved towards me in force, the vibrations were buffeting in and around my ear and a voice...deeper then any voice on this earth could have been...began to speak to me. It spoke to me in a chilled whisper that I swear was speaking directly from within my eardrum itself, and as the words began to grow clearer the figure I had seen before flickered, as did the lights.

"Why are you here...?" It asked of me, the last word sent a shiver down my spine as if I were a helpless victim soon to be devoured by a snake constricting its body around his prey. "You'll be needed...soon enough, someplace else. Take the bag...take it, take it, take it, take it."

His voice was burning into the back of my skull, my teeth landing inside of the inner flesh of my mouth, a deep auburn and crimson spilling out slowly. My knees failed me, and as my chin landed against the lavish floor tile at full speed, a green duffel bag could be seen sitting idly by against the wall just beneath a mounted handed dryer. It was most definitely belonging to Michael, or in the very least, it would have had to have either belonged to him or any of the other countless senior staff members at the hospital. There was a piece of embroidery hand sewn onto the side in the shape of a shield, or perhaps a sort of crest to be more specific and the words "Gotham Memorial: Sensitive Material Transport Unit" just beneath it in an emboldened red font. Something had been urging me off of the floor and to leave the bathroom, almost as though I weren't behind the controls and merely an observer to the events around me within my own skin, the voice from moments ago no longer trying to forcibly get his point across. What more I can say, is that unlike the previous times in which I had suffered from dizzy spells and momentary lapses in consciousness or even memory, this was so much more aggressive and full of tenacity. As it was a heightened straight of paranoia, my own thinking that at any moment I could lose sight of everything and awaken someplace else without knowing the how or why behind it, if I even did wake up, a splotch of blood began to fall from my nostril to the end of my upper lip. The bitter taste of iron in my mouth was among the last of my senses to come in clearly, my feet had firmly recollected themselves and the muted appearance behind the pale complexion in my skin was plain to see. But that would be the absolute last thing I saw of the bathroom, and much more for that matter, as my eyes would begin to twitch rather violently and as I closed my eyes in an attempt to rectify the issue...the voices would return. Another similar yet vastly divergent sensation would be that this time, there would be a singular voice sounding off in my head, not even remotely like before...calming and serene in its own way and heard as clear as day.

 ** _(:3 Hey senpai, I thought it would be cute to leave you a little message on your computer for you to find some point when I'm not around. Perhaps a pick me up to your day or just something to make my senpai smile._**

 ** _^/^ I wrote this on the 3/28/15 (file can tell you that but Im going tell chu anyways.-sassy Z snap-) I really enjoyed spending the last two days at senpai's. I feel so relaxed and happy even though you had to work. Knowing the fact that you were coming home to me and sleeping in the same bed with me gave me the satisfactory of knowing what life can be like with senpai. I don't mind waiting for senpai to come home just to have the happy feeling of waking up to your face in the morning. I also enjoyed spending time with your mom and learning about her and learning more about my beloved senpai. Your mother makes me feel very welcomed and I love that very much. It helps me a little inside that I can have a relationship with your mom, unlike my own. Your mom is a very positive woman and I see were you get it from._**

 ** _Senpai you have a beautiful soul. I can tell by many key factors when I look at someone. -smiles warmly- Lets start off with your eyes. The eyes are the link to the soul people say. I agree with this statement because by looking into someone's eyes they can tell you stories and people purposes. Your eyes mean so, so much to me. They are filled with a mixture of shades of green and brown. If you look closer you can see more than that. I see gentleness, a loving nature, understanding, protection, pain, lust, and genuine love. ^/^ I just don't love the color of your eyes, but also the story and person behind those eyes._**

 ** _When I am with you I feel protected. I have no reasons or feelings that you ever hurt me on purpose. The way your hold me in your arms or hold my hand gives me the feeling of protection. Hence why i love sleeping with you so much. It's not the body heat (which is also fucking nice) but the feeling of protection. ^/^ I love the fact that when you sleep you wrap your arms around me or are touching me in some sort of way. It's your way of making sure im okay and that Im were Im supposed to be. When I have gotten out of get sometimes you reach out and try to pull me back in cause you don't want me to leave your sweet sexy arms of protection. -nose bleeds- I mean come on LOOK AT THEM MUCSLES! 3 GOD THERE YUMMY. Sorry Im getting off track. The point is that you make me feel protected and I love it. Q3Q dem arms though -squishes them-_**

 ** _Truthfully it's easier for me to write my feelings then to say them cause I always fuck up one way or another. Hence why I choose to do this senpai. -cups your face and holds it close- You say I am your blessing. To be truthful I feel like its the other way around. I and being blessed by your presence. You give me everything I need and more. I love your view how money isn't everything, cause it isn't. It's about the memories you makes with people you love and cherish the most. That's why we get along so well. :3 I know sometimes that we both wish we could have met sooner, but if we did who knows if it would have been the same as it is now. I'll take it as it is with our past mistakes and all. -rubs face against yours- your love is so affectionate and pure. I hope that Im doing okay giving it back to you. I just want to make senpai happy too!_**  
 ** _I look forward to being your wife some day. (I'll probably cry like a bitch we both know it.) When ever that day will come. I look forward to spending everyday from now on and forever with senpai. Even if that requires chains. You are the sparkly stars in the night sky senpai. Never forget that, my love! I must go sleep now...cause of work...q3q but at least you'll be home in like 4 ish hours. Love you, senpai._**

 ** _V D: you listen to this dam mushy song boi!_**

 ** _P.S_**  
 ** _LET ME TOUCH YOUR BUTT! 3 D;)_**


End file.
